Wheel In The Sky
by mmmkiwis
Summary: Glee set in Supernatural's verse. Blaine has been a hunter all of his life, and planned on being alone forever. But then he met Kurt. Now whispers of dark times coming are everywhere, and Kurt and Blaine have to save the world. Rated R
1. Pilot

**Author's Note: Wow, someone's actually reading this? Cool! Hi! ****Fair warning, this my first attempt at fiction writing ever so if it sucks...that's why. Also, this will be kind of cheesy because you know what? I enjoy fluff. Leave me be.**

**My goal for this is to be basically the characters of Glee placed in the Supernatural universe. I am going to try to make it so that you do not have to watch Supernatural to understand this, so if you are confused about anything let me know and I'll try to fix/address it. therefore, it's not really a crossover since I don't think I'll be using any characters from SP in here. Also while I am going to focus on Kurt and Blaine, I'm not sure if there will be smut. Probably not, maybe in the future.**

**That being said, I'm going to leave the rating at T, although there will be some explicit language and probably gore. If too many feel it's mislabeled, I'll up the rating.**

**No idea who long this is going to be. I'm having fun writing this though! Feedback is encouraged.**

**I don't own Glee or Supernatural...**

**Update 5/29- I'm going back and fixing some grammar and tense issues, so here you go! Thanks for reading! Also, my new tumblr for writing is at center-of-the-storm on tumblr, so check there for updates or questions or comments!**

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><p>The road flew by in a blur of greens, blues and tans. Blaine Anderson's 1972 Ford Mustang (left to him by his father) kicked up a cloud of dust as he flew down US-30. He was scowling. And bored. There was absolutely nothing to look at because he was in <em>Ohio<em> and Ohio was _flat_. At least this part was. Seriously, all he could see was farmland and prairie until the horizon and there was nothing good on the radio and _goddamit_ he missed his parents.

The young man's grip tightened on the steering wheel at this thought. No, he didn't miss his parents that had just up and left one night back in Montana leaving only a note that said "Good luck" and the car. That was just crazy. He savagely hit the radio button, ignoring the stinging in his hazel eyes.

_I'm back on the road again, it's time I leave you now  
>And maybe I'll see you next time, that I'm around<br>Until then I hope your happy baby and good times come your way  
>I'm back on the road again, I'm on my way<em>

REO. He could live with this. Blaine felt his mouth twitch in a slight smile and he began belting out the lyrics. It was a beautiful day; maybe he could try to enjoy it. A sign caught his eye.

"_Ms. Pillsbury's Pies!"_ it read in giant white letters. There was a picture of a pretty, petite red-head smiling happily and holding out a steaming cherry pie.

"_Best Homemade Pies in Ohio!"_ the sign proclaimed in slightly smaller letters.

Still singing, Blaine took the exit indicated. What can he say? He had a soft spot for homemade pies.

* * *

><p>Kurt Hummel was still seething when he pulled up to his father's house in Lima, Ohio after driving the whole ten hours, 600 miles from New York City.<p>

_Fucking Jesse,_ he thought, slamming his door with much more force than was strictly necessary. _Fucking Jesse fucking that fucking girl in OUR FUCKING BED. _He glared at his black Lincoln Navigator. Jesse had gotten it with him. The car was going to go, Kurt decided, walking around to the back and yanking out his many bags. It hadn't been a pretty break-up. There had been lots of screaming; lots of yelling; and a hell of a lot of noise because when Kurt Hummel was angry, goddammit, everyone was going to know. The whole apartment complex, it seemed, turned out to see Jesse St. James get ripped a new one by the skinny, delicate-seeming college senior that still had the appearance of a high-schooler.

'_It was epic!' Their next-door neighbor would have said if you asked. 'Always thought Jesse was kind of a douche, you know? But screwing over your boyfriend with a girl? That's a new kind of low. Props to Kurt for not taking it lying down! Dude's got claws, man!' Then he would have wandered back into his apartment and passed out from the pot._

"Kurt!" A voice sounded from the small house. Kurt turned and smiled at his dad. Burt Hummel was an average sized man, dressed exactly how one would expect a blue-collar mechanic with his own garage would dress: jeans, a flannel shirt, and a baseball cap. He smiled back at his son. Sure he was happy his kid was living out his dreams in the big city, but he still missed his son. These visits were too rare for his liking. He enveloped Kurt in a great bear hug, and grabbed a bag, grunting at the weight.

"Did you pack bricks, son?"

"Dad! It takes many lotions for my skin to look this good. And you never know what kind of clothes you'll need! It's not that heavy. You're just getting old."

"Am not." Burt grunted and shifted the duffel bag on his shoulder, trying to hide his exertion.

Kurt watched his father lug his bag inside, the flimsy screen door banging shut after him. Burt _was_ getting old, Kurt knew that. But that really was his lightest bag and when Burt had helped him move back into the apartment with Jesse for the school year only a month ago, he hadn't struggled at all. And there were dark circles under his eyes that definitely hadn't been there the last time Kurt saw him.

He shook his head. It was probably nothing. Locking the car, Kurt grabbed the rest of his suitcases and followed his father inside. They had planned an evening of getting drunk and letting Kurt cry about Jesse. Sure Burt wasn't too comfortable with this plan (he wasn't exactly an emotional guy) but Kurt figured the beer and the football would get him through it.

Besides, he missed his dad more than he'd ever admit in public. A night of bonding would be nice.

The next morning, however, Kurt was regretting that plan.

"Why is the sun so damn bright?" he complained, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"You're a lightweight." Burt smiled at his suffering son before tossing a uniform at the thin kid. "Get changed, kiddo. Workin' on cars will be good for you."

Kurt sulked and glared at the greased strained fabric. "Hummel Tires and Lube" proclaimed the right breast. "Kurt" it said on the left. He reluctantly pulled it on over his jeans and plain white t-shirt. What would his friends back in New York say if they saw Kurt, the resident fashionista who bitched and moaned if he had to wear anything less than a McQueen on a daily basis? _Actually_, Kurt thought as he grabbed a tool box and head out of the office and into the crowded garage, _it's kind of nice to just relax in crappy clothes._ Not that anyone will ever hear him say that out loud. Ever.

He looked up as a car drove in the garage. A blue and white 1972 Ford Mustang, Kurt noted. After growing up around cars his whole life and helping out in the shop from age ten on, he had absorbed a ton of car knowledge. He approved of the driver's choice. Then he sucked in his breath as the single most _gorgeous_ man he'd ever seen in real life climbed out.

The man was wearing jeans, brown boots, and a grey v-neck that hugged his chest in such a way as to show off his toned muscles. His dark hair was slightly curly, and when he looked at Kurt, Kurt was sure he could just _die_ in those hazel eyes. Screw Jesse. This guy was hot. Although probably not gay. Kurt's shoulder's sagged slightly at that thought, but he managed to plaster on a warm smile and walked over holding out his hand. Curly Hair was kind of short actually, but Kurt honestly didn't care. Up close the guy had looks like Marlon Brando. Or James Dean. Come to think of it, James Dean _was _staring at him…but whatever. Probably just his imagination.

"Hi, welcome to 'Hummel Tires and Lube'!" The man started but quickly smiled and shook Kurt's hand. "I'm Kurt. This is my dad's shop."

"Blaine. Blaine Anderson." Blaine blinked a few times. "Oh! Yeah. Um. I was wondering. Could you possibly help save my baby?" He gestured at the car. "I was just turning into 'Ms. Pillsbury's' when she started clanging and sputtering and the guys inside said to try to make it here…"

Kurt was already opening the hood. "Don't even worry, Blaine. We are geniuses here." He almost laughed at the look of relief on Blaine's face. "We'll save her for you." Kurt rolled up his sleeves and tried to wave away the cloud of angry-looking black smoke puffing up from the hood.

* * *

><p>Hours later, Kurt was still tinkering over the Mustang. He was currently underneath the car, but was still talking to Blaine, who hadn't left yet. Kurt was interesting, ok? The past few hours had been the least boring of Blaine's life (not including other…activities…) and he loved hearing Kurt talk.<p>

The other man (for, as Blaine learned, Kurt was 22 as well and a senior in college who had had a jackass for a boyfriend until recently and no, Blaine did not get slightly excited at this information) kicked off the uniform about an hour ago. His brown hair was amazingly still perfectly styled, though the rest of his body had grease smudges and stains. Not that Blaine minded. It made the guy look hot. And the thin t-shirt made it easy to admire his slightly built and lean body, although his Mustang was blocking it at the moment. He missed the eyes the most. Blue eyes. Beautiful eyes. Currently hidden by a few tons of metal.

Stupid car.

Blaine immediately apologized to his baby mentally, almost missing Kurt's question.

"Sorry, what?"

"I said," Kurt slid out from under the car, "How many miles are on this thing? Cause there is a ton of road dust just caked all up in there."

"It's seen a lot of love…" Blaine said sheepishly, thinking about how many times the Mustang had been driven across the country in the past 15 years. Damn his dad for leaving the car but not teaching Blaine to repair it. These old babies could be temperamental and Blaine really did not feel like scamming every honest mechanic he came across. He was a decent guy, see, but sometimes he didn't have a choice. His chosen profession didn't exactly pay very well.

"You don't have to hang out here all day, you know." Blaine roused himself from his thoughts and stared into beautiful sea-colored eyes. "I might be a while. I mean I can fix up…" Kurt's voice rambled on, mentioning a million things he could fix or tune up for Blaine's Mustang. It all went over Blaine's head. His dad had been the one to take care of the car. He had barely let Blaine drive it. Until he left.

Blaine interrupted Kurt with a laugh. "You can do whatever you want with her." He smiled. "I trust you." Kurt's eyes widened in surprise. "I mean it. And I don't mind waiting."

Kurt eyed him. "Well, ok. I won't be done by tonight. If you want to wait until we close at 5, I can drive you to a motel. I'd invite you to stay at my dad's place, but there really isn't enough room. A motel would be so much more comfortable. Just bring bug spray and don't be afraid to wage war on the cockroaches."

"I definitely will not be, don't worry," Blaine laughed. Seriously, this guy. Only a few hours and already Blaine felt like he knew Kurt's whole life. Leaving was definitely going to suck. "I can wait. It's no trouble."

He watched as Kurt shrugged and wiggled back under the car. He sighed. Totally wasn't fair. Here was a perfectly hot and sexy guy right in front of him who was definitely gay as evidenced by his story about this Jesse guy and Blaine couldn't make himself hit on him. He'd had plenty of one-night stands, some good, some bad (Jeremiah comes to mind, but that is a story that will never be told), yet Kurt seemed different. He was genuinely a really nice if snarky guy, and had just broken up with a long-term boyfriend. Getting in his pants for one night was tacky and kind of douche-y. It wasn't right. He silently cursed his morals. Blaine wandered away, looking for a bathroom to distract him from Kurt's narrow hips and long legs.

"Did you hear about John?"

"About how he disappeared yesterday? Yeah."

Blaine paused behind a car that was missing two tires. He could hear the other two mechanics talking in low voices as they changed the oil in a fancy Audi. Kurt had told him their names. Bob was the one in overalls and…Jim was the one with a ratty baseball cap and beer belly? Maybe. And Burt. Kurt's father. Burt was walking up to them. Blaine didn't enjoy eavesdropping, but this had piqued his interest.

"Guys. John probably got fed up with his shrew of a wife and left her to go to Vegas for the weekend." Burt glared at his employees.

Jim shifted uneasily. "But that's not like John. He was terrified of Mel, remember? He'd never leave her like that. And he's the sixth guy to go missing—"

Sixth? Christ. Blaine swore under his breath. Never a moment's peace. It always caught up with him.

"Even so—hey! Even so," Burt firmly spoke over the other two, "it's police business. Talkin' about this sort of this does nothing except scare each of us silly. Now. Get back to work. And Bob, I know you are skimping on Harrow's. She's a good person, so go clean her car properly." With that, Burt turned away, heading for the office. Jim and Bob exchanged glance, but shut up and went back to work. Blaine could tell by their twitching jaws that both were still nervous.

Walking back over to Kurt, Blaine unfolded one of the many folding chairs lying around the garage and sat down. Six men missing. This was obviously a problem. He wished Kurt would hurry up and finish. Or at least get bored and want to leave early.

Kurt's gentle chatter washed over him. Occasionally Blaine commented but mostly just listened. He was distracted.

* * *

><p>After dropping Blaine off at the local motel (Blue Horizons Motel, which kind of sucked but Blaine insisted it was fine since the next closest was another three miles and wasn't much better), stopping by the garage to get another hour of work in and eating a comfort dinner of steak and mashed potatoes with his dad, Kurt went out on the town. Sort off. Lima didn't exactly have the best night life but Kurt was determined to stop moping about Jesse and thinking about how sexy Blaine looked when he had dozed off in the garage. No. Kurt was going to have a night to himself and he was going to enjoy it, dammit.<p>

After wandering from bar to bar, he finally just gave up and went to the one his dad and his buddies sometimes frequented. Inside was loud, with the pool tables clanging and a late West-coast hockey game on the TVs and the 30 or so drunk patrons clamoring for another beer. He almost decided to just leave and go home to watch a chick flick and cry into the sheets all night but it was too late. He'd been spotted.

"Kuuuuuurt!" Jim waved furiously from a corner of the bar. Bob was next to him and they both held up pitchers. Kurt would have to stay for a least a little bit now. He grew up with these men as his adopted uncles. They were family. And family didn't let family drink alone.

Which is how Kurt wound up slightly buzzed when he stumbled back in the house at 2 a.m. He winced when the screen door banged shut, the noise seeming exceedingly loud in the dead silent house. He moved through the darkened house as quietly as possible, not wanted to wake Burt up. As he got changed and flopped into bed, Kurt felt something was…off. He turned over and stared at his ceiling. This wasn't the house he grew up in. His dad had moved into a smaller place closer to the garage after Kurt left for college four years ago. The room was small, with a bureau off to the side, a vanity, a bedside table with a lamp and the bed as the only furniture. The ceiling stared back at Kurt. Why was he so nervous? The house was quiet. It wasn't leaking. There were a few owl calls outside. But otherwise…silent. Kurt bolted upright. Silent.

It was never silent at night in this house. The walls were paper-thin and sound carried right through them. Burt snored. Loudly. It was a constant growing up, and Kurt had long since trained himself to sleep while it sounded like a truck starting up in his father's room. But it was silent now. Kurt practically ran to his door, tripping over his suitcases on the way. Cursing, he flung open his door, not even bothering to be quiet this time. Kurt flew down the hall, desperately trying to fight the panic bubbling in his chest. His dad was probably fine. Maybe he got one of those sleep-aids that stopped the snoring. But the conversation from earlier that night kept rushing through his head.

'_Six men missing?'_

'_Yep.' Bob drank deeply. 'No one knows where they gone. But it's always the same. They go to bed and when someone goes to wake them in the morning…nothing.' Jim nodded in agreement, looking slightly queasy. Kurt had taken another long sip from his pitcher and changed the subject quickly._

He paused in front of his dad's door at the end of the hallway.

"D-Dad?" He called quietly, knocking gently. No answer. Kurt swallowed hard, but turned the knob and pushed the door in. "Dad?"

The bed was empty. Moonlight from the open window fell across the rumpled sheets, so Burt had been under the covers at some point that night. The curtains twirled gently in the late night breeze, casting strange shadows into the room. Kurt carefully walked in, hand pressed tightly to his mouth to keep from crying out. The picture frame that was usually on the bedside table was missing. Kurt soon found it face down on the floor near the open window. The glass had shattered all around it. Kurt slowly picked it up. It showed a family of three, taken long ago. Kurt had been about 6, and his little self was clinging to a beautiful woman with long auburn hair and a smile to rival Grace Kelly's. A younger Burt had his arm around her waist. They smiled at the camera.

"Dad…" Kurt's voice broke.

* * *

><p>After checking to the motel, Blaine spent the night researching the missing men as best he could on his laptop. His portable printer was busy for hours. He could see no connection. Three of the six were white, two were black, and one was Asian. Two were married, the rest were either single or had girlfriends. Four had kids. The only connection was that they were all men between the ages of 40 and 55. And were apparently sleeping alone.<p>

Then Blaine had pulled up a map of Lima. The men didn't live on the same street, but the sewer system of Lima had a few hubs where several lines fed into one room. All the men lived in houses whose plumbing was connected to the same hub. Maybe that was important? Blaine decided to explore it in the morning. But it was only 11 o'clock. So then Blaine started reading through his parent's journal they had left him. Maybe in there he could figure out what was going on.

He had several theories by the time he closed the book around 2. He yanked off his shirt and jeans, deciding to sleep in his boxers. It was fucking hot, even for October. The bed wasn't insanely comfortable, but considering the last few nights had been spent in his car, anything with real sheets and a mattress was an improvement. No sooner had he laid down, however, was his cell phone ringing off the hook and a hysterical Kurt was crying in his ear about his missing father.

Then Kurt decided he wasn't sleeping in his house that night and that Blaine had better be ready because he was coming over.

There was no arguing with Kurt, Blaine had quickly realized. Instead, he rapidly began cleaning the motel room: stripping the walls of the various newspaper articles on the missing men he had collected, hiding the map with the sewer tunnels marked under the bed, and stashing his parent's…guide… deep into one of his duffels. By the time Kurt burst in around 4, the room looked fairly normal and not at all like a crazy person's hideout. B laine also had the sense to pull on a pair of sweatpants. Kurt threw his bag at the base of the wall, sat on the bed and burst into tears.

_Shitshitshitshit,_ Blaine was internally freaking out. What could he possibly do? He had a fairly good idea what had happened to Kurt's father, and it sure as hell wasn't pleasant. He doubted Kurt would want to hear that. Blaine had never been all that comfortable with other people and their feelings. Ever. So the sight of a really cute guy sitting on his bed bawling his eyes out was terrifying, yet he had this crazy urge to try to comfort him. Blaine awkwardly sat down next to Kurt, who flung his arms around Blaine's neck and sobbed into his shoulder. Startled Blaine didn't move for a few seconds, but soon hugged Kurt back and murmured comforting words in his ear.

Eventually Kurt calmed down enough to speak in full sentences and haltingly told Blaine what happened.

"It's just…he's all I have, you know? My mom died when I was really little and it's just been the two of us forever and now he's gone and I don't know where he is. Something happened to him." Kurt took a deep breath, still clutching Blaine's hand in a tight grip. His red-rimmed eyes looked desperately at Blaine, who felt his heart breaking for this poor kid. "Something really bad. He wouldn't do this to me after Mom."

"I think," Blaine said gently, "you should get some sleep. Everything might look better in the morning."

"Doubt it." Kurt snorted, but leaned back on the bed. After spending most of the past two days in hysterics, sleep came instantly.

Blaine took the opportunity to study this beautiful man lying on his bed. Yeah. The powers that be were definitely mocking him by sending what looked like an angel to haunt him. How did someone keep their skin so flawless anyway? He brushed a finger across Kurt's cheek. It looked like porcelain. He draped the sheets over Kurt's body and retreated to the chair next to the desk. It felt weird to sleep in the same bed as a guy he had known all of maybe 18 hours total. The chair would be just fine. He could do some research anyway.

"What's that?" Kurt's voice next to his ear the next morning shocked Blaine awake more effectively than any alarm clock.

"Wazzwat?" he mumbled, trying to fight back a yawn and failing. The clock on the bedside table said 8:34. Damn. Only about 3 hours of sleep then.

"That." Kurt pointed at his laptop screen which currently was displaying a gruesome picture of what looked like a beautiful woman with long claws and huge teeth dripping with blood. At her feet was the outline of a clearly dead and blood-soaked man .

_Shit._ Blaine quickly slammed his laptop shut. How to explain this. "Um. That was a succubus." Kurt raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow at him. Damn him for being so well put together already. Actually he was dressed really fashionable…those boots hugged his calves way too well to be anything but designer. "Right. Um." Blaine snapped his thoughts back to placating Kurt. "A succubus is a demon that takes the form of a woman to seduce men. She visits men sleeping alone and feeds off them for several days, draining their energy. When she decides she's bored, she kills them. Legends vary on whether the succubus merely eats their soul or just the flesh." _Don't ask any more questions. Please._ Blaine silently begged.

No such luck. "She feeds off men?" Blaine nodded. "Why, in the next tab then, are you looking at the missing persons reports?"

_Fuck._ Kurt was one nosy and observant son-a-bitch. "Um…" He was usually better at thinking on his feet. Why was it so hard to lie to this guy? He's just another person that Blaine will leave behind after this whole job is over. But he wasn't. He was Kurt. _Dammit._

"Who are you? Really?" Kurt was gazing at him as if Blaine was a particularly interesting puzzle. "I know you said you were FBI earlier, but quite frankly, that's bullshit." Blaine blinked at Kurt, mouth trying to work but failing miserably. "Also I did work on your car a bit after you left. Your trunk, Blaine."

Blaine tried not to look at Kurt. He knew what was in the trunk. Well. There was no escaping now. He'd have to tell the truth. And give up any hope a friendship with this angel.

"You have an armory in there. Machetes. Guns. Knives. And the other stuff? Amulets and talismans? What the hell, Blaine? I wasn't going to mention it because it's your life but now you're looking up demons and missing persons reports and I found the map earlier." Kurt actually looked a little guilty at this admission. "It was sticking out from under the bed. Anyway. Not the point." Deep breath. "Blaine, do you know what happened to my dad?" he asked, scared eyes boring holes into Blaine.

Truth time. Shit.

"I'm a hunter." Blaine finally said. Kurt sat down on the bed and stared, but thankfully didn't interrupt. "See, there are monsters out there. Real monsters. Ghosts. Werewolves. Vampires too, if recent rumors are true." He chanced a glance at Kurt, who had a blank expression on. This was not going well. Oh boy. _Full steam ahead,_ Blaine thought ruefully. "Hunters, like me, track down these monsters and stuff and kill them to protect the public. You. Basically." He shifted uneasily under Kurt's gaze.

"You aren't lying." Kurt stated. It wasn't a question.

"No." Blaine whispered.

Kurt nodded as if to himself. "Well. I believe you. I don't know why, but I do." Relief washed over Blaine. "So…you've been doing this your whole life? Driving from place to place in the Mustang, saving people and hunting things?" His mouth twitched in a smile at this last question.

"Basically yeah." Blaine admitted. "My parents got into it after my little sister was killed by a poltergeist when I was seven. We've been on the road ever since."

"Where are your parents now?"

Blaine swallowed. "I don't know. They left me a few months ago in California. Cut off their phones, their friends. I only have the car and their handbook."

"And fake IDs apparently." There was definitely a ghost of a smile on Kurt's lips. "I'm sorry about your sister."

"Me too."

They sat in silence.

"So…this succubus. You think she's responsible for the disappearances?" Blaine nodded. "What's your plan then?" Blaine stared at Kurt. Stubborn blue eyes glared back, and Blaine knew he wasn't going to be able to ditch him. He sighed, prayed he was doing the right thing, and began explaining.

* * *

><p>Blaine hated sewers. Hated them. He didn't care how often he generally found himself mucking through this shit, he still hated sewers. They were wet and grimy and <em>smelled<em>. But if Blaine thought he hated it down here, Kurt loathed it. He muttered about how his skin was never going to recover from this and his boots were completely ruined and oh god was that a rat?

Blaine was glad he was the one with the shotgun. Kurt was holding the thick handbook to his chest, where an exorcism spell was bookmarked. Blaine wasn't exactly sure on how to kill a succubus so he brought the exorcism spell because she was a demon supposedly and the rock salt-loaded shotgun.

'_Rock salt?' Kurt had laughed at him._

'_Don't knock it.' Blaine warned, carefully capping another shotgun shell. 'It repels a lot of supernatural beings. Something about salt being pure.'_

'_But still,' Kurt giggled. Actually giggled. 'Salt. Ghost and demons are afraid of condiments. What is my life.'_

Both had flashlights that barely pierced the dim gloom. Water dripped loudly, and dank smell assaulted their noses. Blaine was beginning to wonder if they were headed in the right direction. They'd been walking for almost twenty minutes, and he was feeling antsy. "Kurt," Blaine hissed quietly. "Kurt, look, you've got to be quieter. I can't hear if something is sneaking up on us and we don't want to give her a warning that we're coming."

Kurt glared at Blaine, but thankfully shut up. He was aware of how loud his boots were against the grimy ground, and attempted to walk quietly. Taking a deep breath he tried to calm down and slow his pounding heart. Kurt Hummel might be scared to death and freaking out internally but to hell with showing it to Blaine.

Stupid Blaine.

With his soft, curly hair and ripped abs (because while yes, Kurt had been a bit hysterical last night he had _not_ missed that fact that Blaine had been shirtless and if he held on for a little longer than he actually needed to who was judging anyway?) and tight ass and the extremely _dapper_ way the hunter wore his leather jacket. Also, no one should be able to look that sexy holding a gun while also covered in sewage filth. It wasn't right.

Kurt sullenly followed Blaine's footsteps, not looking where the tunnel was headed. _I am obviously crazy,_ he decided. _Following a guy that talks about ghosts and demons as if they were real. I don't even believe in God and now I'm consciously seeking out a succubus that might have kidnapped my dad with a guy barely out of college—if he even went which I doubt—that I've known all of a day. _Yeah, Kurt thought he was definitely crazy. He didn't even notice when Blaine stopped suddenly, instead walking directly into Blaine's back. He muttered an apology into the leather.

" 'S'okay." Blaine pushed Kurt to the side of the tunnel as he cautiously leaned in to peak into the room ahead.

They had finally found the hub. Six other sewer lines fed into the room, which was a circle of about 20 feet in diameter. The ceiling rose about 12 feet, and the only ambient light came from three sewer grates scattered across the room. Other than that, it looked the same as the tunnel the boys were standing in. Dark, dank, covered in filth and reeking. Only…the smell was different. Kurt tightened his grip on Blaine's arm, who nodded.

"Yeah…I smell it too." He whispered sadly. Underneath the stench of sewage filth was an odor of decay, like rotting meat. The air also had a coppery tint to it. "Blood. And death." Blaine glanced back at Kurt who had, if possible, gone even paler. But Blaine couldn't waste time comforting the boy. He checked the chamber of the shotgun yet again and gave Kurt's hand a reassuring squeeze before studying the room again.

There. At the far end, near one of the tunnel entrances. A dark lump was just barely visible. Clouds must have lifted outside for the room suddenly got brighter. Blaine felt Kurt tense up next to him before he dropped his flashlight and dashed across the room. "DAD!"

"Shit! Kurt! Get back here!" But Kurt had already covered the distance and was crouching by the lump. "Fuck!" Blaine suddenly remembered why his father had preferred to work alone. Newbies were fucking annoying. Still muttering curses and flinging glances in every direction, Blaine worked his way across the open space. Up close, Burt looked awful.

Put bluntly, there was blood everywhere. Four long gashes slashed across his chest, and his throat had nearly been torn out. Blood stained his mouth and had settled in a pool all around his body. Near Burt's corpse, the remains of the other six missing men were piled, each in various stages of decay. The earliest, Michael Kenning, had been reduced to yellowed bone. The rest still looked fairly juicy however.

Blaine hadn't really expected to find Burt alive. That kind of happy ending bullshit was only found in the movies. However, at that moment, he wished to a God he never prayed to that he could have spared Kurt the trauma of losing another parent before their time. But now was not the time to grieve. They had to move, quickly, and before the succubus came back. He shook Kurt's shoulder gently. "Kurt." The brunette didn't move. His wide eyes, usually full of sarcasm and laughter, were glassy. Blaine shook his shoulder again, this time more roughly. "Kurt! We have to move. Come on. Kurt! KURT!" He only clutched the tattered book with the exorcism spell and stared unseeingly at his dead father. Blaine growled and yanked Kurt up by the other boy's coat lapel with one hand, the other clutching the gun.

"Look at me. Kurt! Look at me!" With an effort, it seemed, Kurt dragged his blue eyes to Blaine's hazel ones. They watered with unshed tears and horror. Ignoring the stab in his chest from seeing so much pain in those eyes, Blaine spoke. "I'm sorry about your father. I am. And you will get time to properly mourn him. However," Blaine grimaced "right now, we need to worry about getting out of here alive. She might have seen us already, and if so, she won't let us go. We need to focus, alright?" Kurt didn't answer. "We are going to focus on killing that bitch and getting out of here. Are you with me Kurt? I need to know." Blaine hated being so clinical and detached but he could not afford a catatonic wing man at the moment. The brutality of Burt's death meant the creature responsible was extremely powerful, and Blaine was not entirely sure he could protect both Kurt and himself if she decided to attack. But Kurt was shakily nodding.

"I'm with you." He whispered.

"How adorable," drawled a feminine voice.

Blaine and Kurt jumped, with Blaine pushing Kurt behind him protectively and pointing the shotgun at the woman leaning on one of the tunnel entrances.

She had long, flowing black hair, full red lips and curves in all the right places. The clingy red material of her dress accentuated her trim waist and full breasts, and Blaine was fairly certain that had he been otherwise inclined, he would not have been able to resist the sex that seemed to ooze off her body. The only thing off about the gorgeous tanned woman was her jet black eyes. No whites were visible. _Demon._ Blaine tightened his grip on the shotgun, which he now realized was little more than useless. Salt could damage many supernatural beings, but it only tended to irritate demons. A few lower level ones could be held at bay with salt lines, but more powerful ones would simply crack the ground and step across. He tried to take a step forward but Kurt's fingers were digging into his shoulder, and it was actually starting to hurt. "Don't you leave me!" Kurt hissed into his ear.

"Oh that's why my powers aren't tempting you two to completely ravish me!" The demon laughed cruelly. "Other inclinations, eh boys?" She sultrily smiled, putting as much swing in her hips as possible as she approached them, her dress dragging on the ground. The v-neck plunged so low Blaine could see her belly button. He backed up nervously as thoughts of her naked and prone form flitted across his mind. _She's powerful. Shit shit shit._ He aimed the barrels at her chest and pulled the trigger with a bang.

Red bloomed across her chest and she froze. She looked down at her ruined dress and torn up torso before fixing Blaine with the scariest glare he'd ever been fixed with. "You little bastard. I liked that dress!" She was suddenly grabbing Blaine's coat and flung him across the room with a shriek. He hit the wall a few feet up with his back before falling on his face. Groaning, Blaine began hunting through his jacket.

"Kurt! The spell!" he shouted, still turning out every pocket he could find. The succubus snarled and marched over to Blaine.

At the sound of Blaine's voice, Kurt began flipping through the pages until he came to the exorcism spell. It was in Latin and Kurt hoped to God that Latin was pronounced the same way French was, otherwise they were truly fucked. He glanced back at Blaine, who had whipped a small bottle out of somewhere and was flinging the contents at the demon. She howled, smoking slightly. _Holy water?_ Kurt ignored the battle and he tried to decipher the handwritten notes.

"_Exorcizamus te_

_omnis immundus spiritus,_

_omnis satanica potestas,_

_omnis incursio infernalis adversarii…"_

As Kurt spoke, wind suddenly picked up, in a tunnel, which made no sense. He kept reading, noticing from the corner of his eye how the demon began twitching and screaming.

"How cute! Little boys, playing games." She snarled, rushing at Kurt. Kurt backed away, still reading, and hoping that Blaine was going to stop her cause her fingers lengthened into foot-long _claws_ and holy shit that just didn't happen in real life. She raised her arm to strike, but a small blur tackled her and she fell to the side, screaming and twisting in Blaine's grip.

"Keep reading!" Blaine roared, trying to avoid her razor-sharp fingers. A few cuts opened on his cheek, however.

Kurt, who had faltered a bit at the attack, redoubled his reading efforts.

"_Humiliare sub potenti manu Dei,_

_contremisce et effuge..."_

Even though he was tripping over the complicated Latin, the general gist seemed to get through and the demon writhed and squirmed even more violently under Blaine. Her voice suddenly deepened as she cursed out both of them, screaming threats and trying desperately to throw Blaine off her back. Blaine only wrapped his arms around her more tightly. He winced as she managed to bite his upper arm with long, sharpened teeth. He hadn't even noticed the change. _Come one Kurt, hurry up!_

"_Your father begged for his life!"_ The demon snarled, fixing Kurt with her black eyes. Kurt stared back in shock. "_Like a coward! He begged!"_ The demon began laughing. Blaine slammed her head against the ground to shut her up.

For his part, Kurt had backed up against the wall, watching Blaine grapple with the demon, completely numb. He saw her claws find Blaine's side and the hunter let out a cry of pain. That woke Kurt up. "_Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos!" _As he shouted out the last line, the demon screamed again, throwing back her head, but this time a thick black smoke poured from her nose and mouth. It gathered on the ceiling, rumbling angrily before bursting into flames and vanishing. The wind stopped just as suddenly.

Kurt's legs gave out and he sank to the floor, still staring open mouthed at the scorched-free ceiling. He dimly noticed Blaine standing up and gently laying the girl's body down before sitting next to Kurt. He didn't speak, just eyed Kurt warily. He seemed afraid. Kurt tried to clear his dry throat. "That…that just happened?" He looked at Blaine for conformation, who hesitated before nodding. "I just exorcised a demon." Just processing that thought was shocking. "I saw a demon. With black eyes. Her hands turned into claws." This shit just didn't happen in real life. What. The. Fuck. "I…I beat her." Kurt felt satisfaction nestle in chest. "She killed my father, and I beat her. I won." He giggled a little; smiling at Blaine's confused expression.

"Yeah, you sent the demon to hell…" Blaine said slowly. He still watched Kurt carefully though.

"That…thing…can't hurt anyone else. I did it. _We_ did it! We did it!" By now Kurt was laughing. He ran a hand through his styled hair, now even caring what it looked like. He gradually calmed down and saw his dad's body still in its pool of blood. Tears leaked from his eyes. Blaine just hugged him and, for the second time in less than twelve hours, let Kurt cry into his shoulder.

* * *

><p>Burt's funeral was three days later on a cold and cloudy October day, which Kurt thought was damn appropriate. His dad was dead. The sun had no business happily shining when the world sucked so much. The three days since the sewers had been a whirlwind of activity, from the police questioning to planning the service to interacting with the few relatives still around. Surprisingly, Blaine stuck around. He slept on the couch while Kurt didn't sleep at all. Kurt wasn't sure if Blaine stayed to help him out (he had, in all honesty, been helpful with the planning and dealing with reporters and even the sudden appearance of Jesse and his new <em>girlfriend<em>) or if he stayed because he was too polite to ask if the Mustang was fixed so the hunter could get the hell out of Dodge.

Kurt hadn't told Blaine that his car had been fixed ever since he had snuck out of the house for several hours two days before.

Regardless, Blaine was standing next to him, dressed in a sharp suit, and Kurt was grateful for the company. Ohio, quite frankly, sucked for Kurt. He had been bullied everyday in school and had no friends until he left for college. He ordinarily could stand only a few days in Lima before feeling so claustrophobic he practically screamed. He had reached that point several days ago, but the funeral forced Kurt to suck it up.

The rest of the mourners had long since left. Only Kurt and Blaine remained, looking at the twin headstones. One for his mom, one for his dad. Kurt was an orphan. His worst dreams as a child had finally come true, and he had never felt lonelier.

"Thanks." He finally said, trying to ignore how his voice cracked.

Blaine clasped his hand comfortingly. "It's no problem." He gently tugged Kurt back to the car.

"Bye Mom. Bye Dad." Kurt felt a tear trickle down his face. He angrily wiped it away. He was done crying. He had to make plans. And talk to Blaine. Who was sure to hate the idea that had been growing in Kurt's mind. But fuck what Blaine thought. Kurt Hummel wanted this. And Blaine was going to hear him out.

As Kurt was in no state to drive, Blaine took the wheel. He pulled up to the curb outside Burt's (Kurt refused to call it anything else) house. Kurt made no move to get out. "Kurt," Blaine began worriedly.

"You're leaving soon." Kurt interrupted. He fixed Blaine with an even gaze.

Blaine could only nod mutely. His heart hurt faintly at this motion.

"I'm coming with you."

Blaine blanched and stared at Kurt. "No you aren't."

"Yes. I am." Kurt glared and shot a look that Blaine was quickly learning was his _Bitch quit talking nonsense_ look. "There's nothing for me here. Or in New York." He continued quickly, talking over Blaine's protests. "No, shut up listen! How can you expect me to go back to studying stupid patterns and fucking fashion trends and caring about the next musical on Broadway when I know about all the things that go bump in the night? If what you've been telling me is true, people are dying every day because of these creatures. I can help."

"You'll be a liability." Blaine harshly cut in. "The sewer was a fluke. You can't fight. You can't shoot."

"I can shoot a gun. Dad took me hunting."

"Fine. You can shoot animals. What if you were aiming at a child?" Kurt huffed and looked away. "Because, Kurt, some creatures take the form of children. Could you shoot a little girl without hesitating?" Kurt was glaring again. Blaine sighed and twisted in the seat so he was facing Kurt completely. "You don't understand. This life sucks. It's full of bad motels, too few showers, greasy food, no money, loneliness and death. Lots of death. Every time my phone rings, chances are it's someone telling me one of the few friends I've made was killed by some vampire or something. And that's not including all the people I fail to save even after I've taken a job. 'Cause you can't save everyone. Being a hunter eats away at you, Kurt, and you can't ask me to take you with me." Blaine immediately knew he screwed up when he saw the anger flashing in Kurt's eyes. "You don't want this life."

"Do not play the tragic hero card with me, Blaine!" Kurt yelled at his face. "I am aware of the shitty end of the spectrum with this job. I am, shockingly, not stupid. However," His face flushed with anger. "This job saves people. And after my father dying, I don't want anyone else to have to go through this. If I can save just one person, then all the shitty showers and fucking cockroaches will have been worth it." Kurt set his jaw stubbornly. "Just one person, Blaine. It'd be worth it."

Blaine looked at Kurt. The angry, sea-blue eyes, the pale skin, thin lips, stubborn jaw line. He didn't know whether to punch Kurt in the face or kiss him senseless.

"I can't live with it, Blaine." Kurt admitted quietly. "I can't live with knowing that people are dying and I'm not doing everything possible to help them. I can't."

His resolve was weakening. Blaine knew he was going to say yes in that moment. And he hated himself for damning Kurt to a life of being a hunter. He hated that all of Kurt's dreams had been shattered only a few days ago and he hated that Kurt's morals wouldn't let him go back to New York and be happy. But most of all, Blaine hated that a small part of himself was glad Kurt wanted to come. Because he had been really lonely since being abandoned but his parents, and just having a friend for the long rides would be more than Blaine had hoped for in the past. Someone to share the life. Blaine stared out the window. It had started raining and fat raindrops rolled down the glass.

"I can fix your car. She is a beauty, but being on the road for forty years takes its toll. She'll break down again."

Blaine turned back to Kurt, searching his face for doubts. He saw only resolve, pride, and determination. _Fuck._

"Guess I can't say no to that." He tried to smile as Kurt squealed and hugged him, grinning broadly. He barely heard Kurt say he just going to grab his already packed backs and that his Mustang was ready at the shop. He heard the door slam and watched Kurt dash inside the house, probably scaring the crap out of the old ladies inside. Leaving now would be so easy. Just…drive to the shop, get his baby, and be gone. Blaine sighed. Because he wasn't going to. He couldn't leave Kurt now.

He was going to be stuck with that stubborn, headstrong, sassy brunette for a while, and a part of Blaine didn't even mind. When Kurt climbed back in the passenger seat, Blaine could return his smile.

He hit the radio button.

_Well the night's busted open,_

_These two lanes will take us anywhere…_

"Hope you like classic rock." Blaine grinned at Kurt's pout, and pulled away from the curb. Maybe this could work out.

_Oh, oh, thunder road, oh, thunder road, oh thunder road…_

* * *

><p><strong>Songs used: "Back On The Road Again" by REO Speedwagon and "Thunder Road" by Bruce Springsteen<strong>

**A/N Don't know if this is going to annoy anyone but I absolutely hate referring to either one of the boys as "the other boy" "the brunette" "the whatever" because it just feels awkward for me. So I won't be doing that too much. If people are having a hard time seeing which one I'm talking about though, I can change it in the future.**

**Thank you for reading, hope it wasn't too torturous!**


	2. Hurt

**Author's Note:**

**Holy shit. People are actually reading this? Are...are you guys lost?**

**No, but seriously, thank you so much to all those who took the time to review/subscribe/favorite this based only on one chapter! I am so shocked and humbled and honestly this is so cool! So thank you!**

**I need to address a few things, so feel free to skip this (really long) note.**

**Ok. So I forsee myself updating at the very least every week, at the most every 2 weeks. Most chapters will be long, because I am incapable of speeding things up and talk a lot. For perspective, this chapter is 13k+. What's done of the next is 5.5k. Yeah. So be aware of that. How often I update might change when I go back to school at the end of August though.**

**Second, I am on vacation at the moment, so I will try to work on the next chapter. About half of it is already written, so it'll go up when I get back, probably next week or the week after. Sorry about that.**

**Third, I do have a tumblr, the link is in my profile. I probably won't put up previews or anything like that but I will put up alerts if I think the next chapter will take exceptionally long or something. So feel free to hit me up there with comments/questions/complaints whatever!**

**Fourth, I'm making this take place in 2010 (you'll see) but Kurt and Blaine are 22. For those who do watch Supernatural, I decided not to include Sam and Dean and Cas only because it would be really hard to incorporate the Apocalypse into this seeing as it focuses on Sam and Dean and this...doesn't. Sorry =[ This was a hard decision... However, more of the Glee cast will be making an appearance. Some will be recurring, some not. I haven't really decided on an overall plot yet. So for now, it'll just be little adventures and exploring Kurt and Blaine's friendship. Sorry, no smut in the near future...**

**Oh yeah, and the title for this series is from "Wheel In The Sky" by Journey. Great song, go listen!**

**I don't have a beta for this, so again if you don't watch Supernatural and are really confused, I think I explained everything by the end. If not, let me know please!**

**Wow, that was long. Sorry, I'll keep it short for next time! Again, thanks to all my readers, hope I don't let you down!**

**(I don't own Glee. Or Supernatural.)**

**Update 5/29- Don't mind me, just fixing grammar and tense issues =]**

* * *

><p>In the week after Lima, Blaine and Kurt discovered all sorts of things about each other.<p>

No, not sex. Mind out of the gutter!

Blaine found out that Kurt does not function well until he has had his coffee, Kurt takes years in the bathroom with his skin routine, and Kurt hates Journey. Well, specifically one song by Journey.

He found out that last one the hard way.

"_Blaine Anderson, if you do not turn off that god-awful shrieking, I will shave your head while you sleep!" Kurt yelled over Steve Perry belting out _"Don't Stop Believing."

_Blaine sulked but switched stations. "Why you gotta hate on Journey?" he moped. "It's…Journey! Everybody loves them!" He got only a glare in return. It was a common occurrence._

"_In my high school glee club, we sang that song all the time. It was kind of our anthem." Kurt looked out the window at the passing Nebraska countryside. "I'm sick of it now."_

_When Blaine finally spoke, it was softly. "Sorry Kurt." _

Kurt, on the other hand, found out Blaine was a cuddlewhore when he got sleepy or drunk, Blaine could be ridiculously cheerful at annoying times, and Blaine loved cookies.

Not store-bought cookies. Homemade cookies. Kurt resolved to make some if they ever stay in a place with an oven.

Actually, Kurt was finding out a lot of things about hunter life. Blaine was determined to squash 15 years of knowledge and training into as little time as possible, which meant the long car rides were spent with Kurt reading the "Sacred Holy Textbook of Evil," as Kurt had named Blaine's parents' handbook/journal. Apparently it was common for hunters to keep one to track of all the creatures they encountered. Blaine had looked disapprovingly at Kurt the first time the other boy used that name, but secretly thought it clever and all too accurate. Kurt was actually scarily good at recalling information, and memorized three different exorcisms in less than a day (it had taken Blaine months to remember the shortest one and he gave up on the rest). In addition to studying up on supernatural mythology, Kurt was also learning hand-to-hand combat, knife fighting, and shooting. That last one was interesting.

_BAM_

"_Jesus fucking Christ, Kurt, AIM."_

"_I AM." Kurt glared at Blaine, who had turned pale and looked faintly sick._

"_Obviously you are NOT, seeing as you almost SHOT me." He retorted. Blaine hoped his heart would go back to a normal speed. Kurt's bullet, though it had missed, thank God, had taken ten years off his life._

"_You stepped into my line of fire."_

"_TWICE, Kurt."_

"_You stepped into my line of fire." Kurt repeated stubbornly. The edges of his mouth twitched. "Ok. Look, I'm sorry I almost shot you twice. It was an accident, and won't happen again." He raised the small revolver again and aimed at the can on the wood stump 50 feet away._

_Standing well behind Kurt this time, Blaine just grunted. "I'm still not letting you carry firearms until I can be certain you won't blow off your foot. Or my foot."_

_Kurt rolled his eyes, and squeezed the trigger. BAM. The can jumped in the air. Blaine decided to ignore Kurt's crow of excitement and cracked open yet another beer._

Currently, the boys were somewhere on US-70. All Blaine knew was they had entered Utah an hour ago but beyond that, nothing. They didn't have a job yet, so a destination was pointless.

In the seat next to him, Kurt's shoes were off and he was curled up with the journal. He had fallen asleep, however, and Blaine kept sneaking glances when he wasn't watching the road. The late afternoon sun fell across his face, lighting up his skin. Never would he ever stop comparing Kurt to an angel. Even though angels, as far he knew, didn't exist. Nope, in Blaine's mind, Kurt had the looks of an angel and a tongue like a knife. He had hoped that spending so much time with Kurt would shake him of his foolish crush, but no. If anything, finding out all of Kurt's faults made the guy even more perfect. Blaine sighed. Love obviously made no sense.

He was shaken out of a content daydream involving him and Kurt holding hands while walking in New York City at Christmas by his phone cheerfully playing "I'm On A Boat."

Kurt groaned next to him and rubbed his eyes tiredly. Blaine fumbled for his phone, silently swearing to rip Wes a new one for waking up Kurt. He scowled at the phone as it kept ringing before finally figuring out how to answer. Kurt watched in sleepy amusement.

"What?" He snarled into the phone. Blaine saw Kurt's eyebrow rise but ignored it.

"_BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAINE!"_

"_MY DEAR HOBBIT!"_

Blaine groaned aloud and held the phone against his chest to address Kurt. "Two of my friends from high school. Wesley McAllister and David Kingsley."

"And the ringtone?" Kurt asked.

"Wes's idea." Blaine reluctantly hit speakerphone and handed the hated contraption to Kurt so he could keep both hands on the wheel. "You guys do realize I have grown since high school right?"

"_False."_ Blaine could hear Wes smirking.

"_You are and always will be our little hobbit person!"_ Blaine heard a high five. He glared at Kurt who was snickering.

"It's true, you are kind of short for a guy." Kurt smiled apologetically.

"_Oh my GOD, was that a guy? Blaine Warbler, do you have a man in your car?"_ David demanded.

"_Are you screwing him yet?"_ Wes cut in eagerly.

"_Is he hot?"_

"'_Course he's hot, why would Blaine shack up with a moose?"_

"_Good point. Is he a moose Blaine?"_

"I'm NOT a moose." Kurt was blushing furiously at this point. "And no, Blaine and I are not fucking. Just friends."

"_Bull—"_

"—_Shit."_

"GUYS." Blaine's cheeks were hot, but fuck if those idiots were ever going to know. "Leave Kurt alone. He's telling the truth." He heard mumbling on the other end, but was reasonably certain they would behave for the rest of the conversation. "Was there a reason you two called?" The steering wheel was in a death grip, and Blaine tried to force himself to relax. Breaking his baby would not help his blood pressure.

Wes scoffed. "_Maybe we just wanted to hear your beautiful voice, dear hobbit."_

"_Yeah ever think of that? We are hurt by your implying we needed a reason to call."_

"_Speaking of, you still singing and playing that old guitar?"_

"No," Blaine avoided Kurt's questioning eyes.

"_Huh. Shame. You were our best soloist."_ David sighed dramatically.

"Whatever. Guys. Calling me. Why."

"_Still bossy."_ Wes remarked to David. "_Anyway, things are weird here."_

"_Like really weird."_ David clarified.

"_Your kind of weird."_ Wes paused. _"Kurt knows about you right?"_

Blaine clenched the steering wheel tighter. "Well if he didn't, he sure knows now…" he muttered under his breath.

Kurt shifted against the seat to get a more comfortable position. "Yes, I know."

Someone sighed—Blaine thought it was Wes. _"Awesome. Codes would have been confusing."_

"_And tedious."_

"_Anyway,"_ there was a noise as someone shifted the phone. Wes continued. _"We think our dorm might be haunted."_

There was a full minute of silence after that admission.

"_Blaine?"_

"Yeah, yeah, I'm here, David." Blaine pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why, may I ask, do you think your dorm is haunted?"

"_I'm detecting disbelief."_

"Last time you called me, you made me drive cross-country in the middle of the night because you were convinced some girl was a vampire." Blaine deadpanned. Kurt held a hand to his mouth to stifle the giggles.

"_She looked the part!"_

"SHE WAS A STRIPPER AT THE LOCAL TWILIGHT BAR."

"_Well yeah, but—" _David was laughing.

"I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO COVERED IN GLITTER IN MY LIFE!"

Kurt was openly laughing at this point. "Oh my god, I need this story."

"You'll never get it." Blaine informed his passenger darkly. "Why is your dorm haunted? You have 3 minutes to some up with a logical case otherwise I'm hanging up."

"_Fine! Sheesh, someone's in a bad mood." _Wes said sulkily.

"_Well it sounds cliché, but…"_ David explained everything.

By the end, Blaine had to agree. The whole situation did seem suspicious. "Well Kurt," he grinned at the boy. "You up for Stanford?" Kurt's bright smile answered for him.

* * *

><p><em>-Stanford, California-<em>

Kevin O'Donnell stumbled back into his dorm at a quarter past 3 in the morning. His head ached from the amount of booze and shots he had downed earlier. But even with the alcohol, the pain of losing his best friend only days before was still fresh. _Joey…_

He flicked on the light, moaning as the rays attacked his bloodshot eyes. He really drank too much, Kevin decided, feeling his stomach lurch unpleasantly with every step. His roommate was still out, so he was on his own.

But…he wasn't. Even in his alcohol-induced haze, Kevin felt eyes following him around the room. His dorm was small; there were only a few places large enough for someone to hide in. Kevin hesitated, weighing options. He was a fairly large man at 6'1", maybe 225 lbs. He took boxing classes twice a week at the gym off campus and could hold his own in a fight. Kevin was afraid of no man.

For some reason, his thoughts kept returning to Joey. His friend, who had been found dead in his room two days before. Cold fear crept up Kevin's spine. Was this what happened to Joey?

Fuck it. Kevin balled up his fists and whirled around. The door looked back at him innocently. He quickly checked both closets, the beds, even under the desks. Nothing. So why was he still feeling watched? Shaking his now pounding head, he stripped to his boxers, tossing the dirty clothes over his desk chair.

A giggle.

What. The fuck. The fear came back, worse than ever. "W-who's there?" Kevin managed to choke out. Silence. His eyes darted around the room frantically, but there was nothing there. His heart was beating loudly, so loudly that it was hard to hear. No one emerged. He could hear the drunken laughter of some freshman outside but it was still inside his room. He was alone. But that giggle…Kevin really did not think of himself of imagining things, but who knows. He drank a lot more than usual tonight. That was it. Only his nerves. He nodded to himself, proud of coming up with a logical solution.

And yet…a tiny part of him begged to sleep with the lights on. But this was stupid. He was a grown man, dammit, he was not a sobbing little girl and he sure as fuck was not afraid of the dark. Kevin flicked the light switch off just as he felt a cold hand clamp down on his shoulder.

* * *

><p>"What are we again? FBI agents?" Kurt whispered, tugging on his suit sleeve as he and Blaine approached Satanford's Crothers Hall. The dorm building was modern and clean, and looked a hell of a lot more roomy than Kurt's apartment housing back in New York. Kurt huffed to himself as he tried to sort through the set of ID cards and badges Blaine had made the day before.<p>

Blaine fidgeted in his own suit and nodded. "Just let me do the talking. Smile and look pretty."

Kurt glared, but let Blaine take the lead. They met the residence hall coordinator, Amy Bradley, outside the doors. She was a small blond woman who was constantly smiling, though Kurt noticed it was strained. Not surprising, considering the ambulance parked outside and the two EMTs rolling a bagged body on a stretcher out the entrance. A few students were gathered outside, herded off to the side by police caution tape.

"We had an accident last night," the woman began nervously.

Flashing a badge, Blaine interrupted. "FBI, ma'am, Agents Bloom and Roeser," Blaine waved at Kurt, who fumbled his badge but eventually got it open. He smiled sheepishly at the woman who raised an eyebrow. "He's new." Blaine sighed. "Anyway, we are assigned to the murder investigation of a Mr. Joey Greco, but it appears we have another incident here?" Kurt marveled at how easily the lies rolled off Blaine's tongue. Years of practice had honed his impersonation skills well.

Ms. Bradley nodded and teared up. "They've labeled Joey's death murder then? I mean, I'd hoped it was just an accident, I can't imagine any of our students wanting to hurt each other like that…and oh! Yes, Kevin O'Donnell was just found by his roommate a few hours ago. You don't think the same person could have…?" Her eyes widened. "Oh my God we have a serial killer on campus? In Stanford?" Her voice was rapidly becoming more and more hysterical, but she appeared to calm down a little after Blaine comfortingly put his arm around her should and steered her away from the ambulance, motioning for Kurt to follow.

Inside the building in the common area, Blaine soothed the woman. Kurt was distracted by a flyer on the NEWS bulletin board. "What's this?" he interrupted.

The woman looked at the flyer he pointed at. "Oh. Mary Solomon. She's a student here." Pause. "Well she was. She's been missing for two weeks. Her roommate put up those fliers."

Kurt ignored Blaine's questioning eyes, focused on the HAVE YOU SEEN ME? picture. Mary was not beautiful. Mousy curly brown hair, mud-colored eyes, freckles, glasses and braces looked back at him. Her eyes were sad, though her thin mouth was curved up into a smile. It had the look of a posed school picture. He studied her photograph, wondering where she'd gone and why no one seemed that concerned. The woman was almost in tears over two deaths but a missing girl who in all probability was also dead got nothing more than a cursory glance. Yet another mystery here.

Somehow, Blaine managed to talk his way into seeing Greco's room, with the promise of looking at O'Donnell's the next day after the police had left. Once the coordinator left, mollified with Blaine swearing to return the key to her office when they were finished, the two fake agents began searching. Greco's roommate had been relocated after he found the body and refused to stay in the room. The chalk outline of where Greco had laid was still visible on the thin carpet.

The double room was split down the middle, with a bed, desk, closet and bureau on each side. The roommate's side was mostly bare, but Joseph Greco's was still furnished. There was a Playboy calendar and a Megan Fox poster hanging above the bed, and several photos attached to the corkboard wall near the desk. The desk held a few picture frames, mostly of Joseph and a pretty brunette or Joseph and the brunette and two other boys.

Kurt took out the police file that Blaine had somehow managed to procure from inside his jacket. He suspected hacking, but Blaine insisted it was "creative computing." Either way, they had the crime scene photos and a detailed field report from the officers on scene, plus information Kurt was positive was not for public consumption. He picked out the autopsy report and the photo of the body on the floor, handing the last to Blaine. It showed a fully clothed boy collapsed on the floor, face blue and swollen. The hands were drawn up to the chest, but the fingertips were red and had streaks of blood. The face would have been handsome, once upon a time. Had the owner been alive.

"'Joseph Aaron Greco, age nineteen, deceased October 21st, 2010.'" Kurt read as Blaine studied the photograph, then the floor. "The cause of death was asphyxiation, but the coroner couldn't find anything to indicate what was used. No fibers from pillows or sheets, no marks on the neck to indicate a rope or a cord, no water in the lungs so he didn't drown…" Kurt skimmed the report quickly. "There's no other damage to the body to suggest a struggle of any kind other than the fingers. His nails are torn off and the pads are all scratched up." He took out the close-up autopsy photograph of Greco's nails, which Blaine examined. Kurt continued. "The coroner says it looks like he was clawing at something, but the police couldn't find anything in the room. The door and windows were clean and locked. Plus his girlfriend said his hands were fine when she left him three hours before he was found. Basically, the guy died of suffocation with destroyed fingers in a clean locked room. They have no idea who did it." He threw up his hands in exasperation. Blaine wasn't really listening though. He had taken out some weird contraption that resembled a gutted Walkman (vaguely) fused with a few computer chips that had a row of light bulbs on one edge. There was even a short antenna. "Blaine, what the hell is that thing?" Kurt asked, watching Blaine wave it slowly around the room.

"It's an EMF meter." Kurt just stared. "It reads the strength of the electromagnetic field. Some supernatural beings, like ghosts, give off a lot of activity and this'll pick it up. Anything that uses electricity gives off some, but with ghosts, you'll know when..." Blaine grinned as the device suddenly lit up completely and squealed. "Bingo!" He peeled the photograph of Greco, his girlfriend, and two other boys standing in front of the Stanford sign off the wall. He waved it at Kurt. "What do you say we talk to the girlfriend? Maybe she can tell us who these other two are…" Blaine continued spinning theories and ideas while Kurt repacked the police file (not before taking out the interview with the girlfriend though) and locked the door.

Blaine seemed so happy to be on a case that he didn't stop talking as they made their way to Marissa Clarke's dorm room. He was like a puppy, fairly giddy with excitement. Kurt wondered if it was because he finally had a job to do or because he had someone to do the job with. By the way Blaine kept bumping Kurt's shoulders and asking his opinions, though, Kurt had a good idea. Blaine had been lonely before Lima, but now he had Kurt. And Kurt was perfectly happy with this observation.

Marissa Clarke was the brunette in the photo. She was probably normally beautiful, but now her wide blue eyes were bloodshot and her small, round face was blotchy from crying. Regardless, her long brown hair had been straightened and she wore a fitted tank top and skinny leg jeans paired with stylish heels. Kurt's inner fashionista approved. Thankfully, her roommate was out, and she let them in after she inspected their badges. "Pre-Law," she said by way of explanation when Blaine had raised his eyebrows after she took at least two minutes to verify their FBI status. Kurt was privately very proud of the fact he hadn't outwardly freaked out during that time, instead plastering on his best bored face.

Her room was the epitome of 'girly.' Huge pink flower wall stickers were plastered on the dorms walls, both beds had patterned pink comforters, and a giant furry pink beanbag chair rested on the floor. Where the flowers left space, Marissa had decorated the walls with photos of her friends and family. Kevin was prominently featured, as were the other two still-nameless boys. Her roommate was apparently some kind of science major, judging by the huge thick textbooks on her desk and chair. Marissa gestured vaguely at the seating, indicating that they should sit down as she sank on her unmade bed.

Exchanging glances, Kurt saw a twinkle in Blaine's eye. Uh oh. Bad. Before Kurt could react, Blaine was in Marissa's desk chair. Kurt shot him an evil glare as he attempted to sit on the beanbag and retain some dignity. Judging by Blaine's snickers, he wasn't succeeding. Stupid Blaine.

"I already told the police everything I knew about Kevin," Marissa sniffled. A box of tissues appeared in Blaine's hand, and she shyly smiled at him as she took one. "Why is the FBI getting involved now?"

If Kurt was an eviler person, he would have laughed at Blaine's suddenly nervous expression. Pre-Law majors must not usually be interviewed. He decided to be nice. "We were requested to help after they found the second body this morning. Since the FBI has jurisdiction in serial killings." Kurt tried not to look too smug at Blaine's shocked face. Watching _Bones _and _Law and Order _for days while stuck in the hospital that one dark time finally paid off. But Marissa was nodding.

"That makes sense. So they think Kev's death is connected to Joey's?" Tears welled up in her eyes. Blaine held out the box of tissues again. "Thanks," she dabbed at her eyes. "It's just hard, you know? Two friends dying on you like this."

Blaine perked up at this. "You knew Mr. O'Donnell well, then?"

She nodded and pointed at a picture on the wall behind her. It was the same as the one Kurt currently had hidden in his jacket. "That's him," Marissa pointed at the blond boy in the polo next to her, leaving just the red-head left to identify.

"Who is the last guy?"

"Nick Holden. We're all friends." Her voice trembled. "We're all Pre-Law, and we met in freshman year. We hang out all the time, we're in the same classes, and Joey and I started dating last summer." More tears. "I can't believe two of us are just gone!" She sobbed and blew her nose, sounding remarkably like a tugboat. Kurt shifted on the beanbag chair at this unceremonious thought. He really should work on being nicer. Blaine was amazing at comfort. Though Kurt had learned that first-hand. Watching him work with Marissa, though, Kurt had to wonder how many people Blaine had sobbing into his shoulder on a daily basis, and woah was that jealousy? Hummel was clearly bored.

"Marissa, may we ask you some questions?" She nodded at Blaine's warm smile. Kurt tried not to gag. "Did Joey or Kevin have any enemies? Anyone who would be upset with them for some reason?"

She was already shaking her head. "No! Everyone loved them! They were so kind and sweet to everyone." Marissa blew her nose again. "Junior year sucks," she mumbled into the tissue. "I have so many classes; two of my friends are dead…"

"One of your classmates is missing…" Kurt added, surprised when she wrinkled her nose in disgust. "That's not a bad thing?" He frowned.

She snorted. "Well yeah, I mean anyone missing is a bad thing. But Mary was just super annoying. She was such a dork and thought she had what it took to be a successful lawyer when clearly she was destined to be a lackey forever."

Kurt inexplicably felt the tingles of rage float around his chest. "What do you mean?" he said tightly. Blaine was quiet, letting the scene play out.

Marissa needed little prodding. "Well just look at her." She rolled her eyes. "No jury would have ever take anything she said seriously. I mean the girl wore peasant dresses our first year. Like dresses out of 'Little House on the Prairie' cause she was from Nebraska and home-schooled or something. I don't know. And she was super religious; always talking about God and Jesus."

"Did she preach at you?" Kurt asked, still bristling.

Shifting uncomfortably under Kurt's stare, Marissa pouted. "Not…really. But she thought it. You could see it when we talked about going to parties and stuff. No one liked her. She didn't have any friends." She glared defiantly at Kurt. "I think you two should leave now." Marissa shut the door behind him a tad forcefully.

Their conversation with Nick Holden was similar minus the constant crying. He was upset about his two best friends dying, but he seemed a bit too nervous. Kurt couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something was off. The red-head's eyes kept darting around the room and he jumped about a foot once when Blaine patted his shoulder. And Blaine was about as terrifying as a puppy.

Nick repeated that no, his friends didn't have any enemies, yes, everyone liked them, and no, he had no idea who would want them dead. Then, to Kurt's surprise, Blaine mentioned Mary Solomon. Nick's demeanor changed almost instantly. If he had been nervous before, he was downright terrified now. He guiltily admitted that yeah, no one liked Mary, Marissa seemed to have it in for girl, and no, he didn't know where she was either. That last statement was delivered with quite a bit more nervously than the other. Finally though, Blaine said they'd be in touch and Nick let them out with visible relief.

Outside, Blaine sighed. "This is such a mess. But we need to talk about what happened with Marissa." He met Kurt's glare easily. "You can't let your feelings rule questionings like that. No one will tell you anything if you put them on the defensive." Kurt had spun on his heel and stalked towards the stairs at the mention of Marissa. "I mean it, Kurt," Blaine spoke to Kurt's back.

"She judged Mary on little more than clothing and her hometown. She hated her for no reason at all." Kurt snapped. He wasn't sure why Mary affected him so much. She was just a missing junior at a college in California, a girl he'd never seen before. Yet he felt like he knew her and her suffering. Apparently college could be as bad as high school, and he was thankful he'd made the decision to go to New York after graduation. Blaine was still following, but Kurt wasn't particularly interested in what he had to say.

Once Blaine finally caught up with him at the car, Kurt allowed himself to be addressed. "Something about Mary is bothering you." Blaine stated. He waited.

"I just don't like that she's been missing for two weeks and no one cares."

"No. It's more than that. But I do think you're on to something." Blaine unlocked the car and slid behind the wheel. Kurt followed a few seconds later.

"You do?"

Blaine nodded. "It is suspicious. Mary goes missing. Then two people die. And those two people are part of the same group, a group that includes a girl that irrationally hates the missing girl. Nick practically had a heart attack when I mentioned her name. Also," Blaine turned to look at Kurt. "Marissa referred to Mary in the past tense."

Kurt could only nod in agreement. Even if Blaine could be a complete goofball, one thing was certain. He was damn good at his job. They drove off to a nearby motel to wait for Wes and David.

* * *

><p>Meeting Wes and David wasn't nearly as terrifying as Kurt was expecting after the phone call. After initially threatening Kurt with various forms of bodily form if he broke Blaine's heart (neither believed Kurt nor Blaine's assertions that they were strictly friends and not dating) David declared Kurt to be "adorable" and "a hot piece of ass" and they bought Kurt his drinks for the night. Regardless of being certifiably insane, Kurt found the black guy (David, Blaine said) and Asian (Wes) hilarious and the four had a good hour of fun before Blaine made them discuss business.<p>

Neither David nor Wes personally knew Mary, the victims or Marissa and Nick. "Not that we should," David explained. "If they were in Pre-Law like you said. We're performance majors. Acting. We really don't know anyone outside our major or floor. Plus we're seniors." Kurt nodded, knowing the feeling.

Wes hesitated before speaking. "Mary was kind of infamous though," he admitted. "People weren't very nice to her. Like earlier this year someone Photoshopped her head on a Playboy body and put it all over the hall with her room and cell number."

David nodded somberly. "Wes and I took them down on our floor but apparently some guys were already leaving explicit voicemails for her. The faculty yelled at us but there's not much you can do with college guys." He took a large swig of beer. "Honestly I just felt bad for her."

_So why didn't you do something?_ Kurt felt like screaming. But he held his tongue. Interfering with bullying was hard. He knew. But he had little love for bystanders. He drank deeply to avoid having to comment.

He did not, however, miss the fact that Blaine was watching him. That boy was too observant for his own good. Kurt scowled into his beer. He didn't even like beer all that much. But he had felt guilty about ordering something else when Wes had shouted for the waitress to bring over a pitcher for the four of them. He felt Blaine's knee nudge his leg under the table. But when he looked up, Blaine was saying something to Wes.

"Have you heard any rumors about why she might have run away?"

Wes shook his head. "No. Not really. Some girl was talking about how Mary had probably gone back home to her parents, but I don't know. Mary studied a lot. We saw her in the commons area. Up past midnight with a huge book in front of her."

"You should talk to her roommate." David suggested. "Laura was the one that raised hell after the Playboy pictures and she put up the 'missing' fliers. I think she's the one that reported Mary's disappearance too." He shrugged.

"Worth a thought," Blaine mused. He drained the last of his cup. "You wanna stay and finish that?" Blaine waved at Kurt's quarter-filled beer.

"No, we can go," Kurt set down his cup hurriedly and shrugged into his coat. "It was nice meeting you guys. Though you both are crazy." He held out his hand.

"It's a common observation," David grinned, shaking his hand.

"Don't keep Blaine up all night!" Wes said with a knowing smile. He hugged Kurt and ran out before the other could correct his assumption. David shot them a thumbs up before chasing after Wes.

Blushing a deep red, Kurt informed Blaine that he had weird friends. Blaine just laughed at him.

* * *

><p>Kurt Hummel was really fucking bored. Two hours of reading about how to kill a ghost in a handwritten notebook with really curvy font was getting to him. He pushed his glasses back up his nose and sighed. Loudly. From his position on one of the beds, he glanced at Blaine, who was sitting in the lone chair reading through the police report on Joey Greco and pointedly ignoring Kurt. <em>Bitch<em>, Kurt thought sourly, glaring at the passage he was supposed to be reading.

"I swear this book gets more words the longer I read," he complained. "It's growing. There are definitely more pages than there were an hour ago." Kurt tossed it at the foot of the bed and leaned back against the pillows. He shut his eyes.

"You could go to sleep," Blaine said absently.

Snorting, Kurt looked around the room. It was a generic motel room. Two queen beds (the woman at the front desk raised an eye brow at this), a table, a chair, a dresser with a TV, paintings of a barn, a bathroom, and a closet. The color scheme was green, and Kurt wanted to find the designer of this room and beat his head in with a color wheel. Because the green wallpaper, bright purple comforters, and tan carpet didn't match in any dimension. When Blaine said crappy motel rooms were a given, he'd been underselling it.

Kurt watched Blaine flip another page. Those glasses were kind of cute on him actually. They were a plain black with ticker frames, but were not in the pretentious hipster-range of thickness. Blaine's hair, freed from the gel he had used that day so he'd "look more professional and less like a hobo" curled lazily. And sexily. It looked soft. He wondered what those curls would feel like under his fingers…Kurt shook his head. Bad train of thought. Blaine was ridiculously good-looking, and yes, Kurt knew he was gay after the sewers in Lima, but it was too soon after Jesse and way too soon after his father for Kurt to be in a relationship. Plus he liked Blaine and didn't want to damage this friendship. Living together on the road was amazing. Kurt had never connected with someone so quickly or so deeply and non-platonic feelings would only complicate things. But Blaine needed to stop wear t-shirts that were so tight because Kurt could see that Blaine was absolutely _ripped_ under that thin fabric and his hands ached to just touch and oh god Blaine saw him staring. Awesome.

"See something you like?" Blaine grinned at Kurt's flushed face.

Bastard. Kurt ignored him and picked his book back up, trying to will his blush away. He was concentrating on the book so hard he didn't notice Blaine get up and walk over to the bed until the book was yanked out of his hands.

"It's late. Go to sleep." Blaine put the book on the table and sat down on his own bed. He took off his glasses and reached to turn off the lamp.

"Why aren't you pushing me about Mary?" Kurt burst out. Whoops. His mouth was irritating sometimes. He definitely did not mean to say that.

Blaine, meanwhile, just shrugged. "Well, I know something about her bothers you. But if you are really serious about staying with me and being a hunter—"

"I am."

"—Then you'll tell me eventually." Blaine crossed his legs. "It's hard to keep secrets when you live with someone every hour of every day. You'll get sick of me yet," he grinned again.

"No I won't." Kurt said quickly. Blaine raised an eyebrow at this, but smiled faintly. "I mean, you aren't that annoying." Dammit, he was blushing again. "Anyway—stop laughing! Anyway, I'll tell you why I think Mary is sticking with me." Blaine stopped giggling and waited patiently. Kurt fiddled with the edge of the comforter before continuing.

"When I was in high school back in Ohio, I was the only out kid in my school." Blaine's eyes had turned concerned. Kurt pushed on. "A lot of the jocks had a problem with that. I was bullied pretty much from freshman year on." He brushed away a tear. It'd been years, why was he suddenly getting weepy about long ago torments? But the memories kept coming back. "It was more physical than Mary's seemed to be. Getting pushed into the lockers, thrown in the dumpster, things like that." And getting called "fag" or "lady" or "fairy" daily. Those had hurt too. "And getting slushied. Those weren't fun. Our school had a slushie machine and the jocks liked to toss the slushies in losers' faces." He explained when Blaine looked confused. "I just know what it must have felt like for Mary. All those people around her, and no one really tried to stop the harassment. Because no one really cared enough to. Not even your friends." He stiffened when he felt Blaine sit down next to him. But he let his hand be pried off the comforter before the poor fabric tore under his fingers and held.

"People suck." Blaine said simply. He didn't say he was sorry or anything Kurt had heard a million times before. He just sat there with Kurt, holding his hands and understanding.

Kurt thought that was when he knew he loved Blaine Anderson.

* * *

><p>Mary's roommate was not what Blaine was expecting. Not having much experience with colleges beyond the odd TV show, Blaine thought she'd be another clone of Marissa—perfectly put together and somewhat bitchy. Laura Hamilton had dark brown hair tied back in a messy bun, glasses, and comfort clothes. She looked like she had just rolled out of bed (which she might have, seeing as it was almost 10 and Kurt didn't know the meaning of sleeping in). Dark circles were visible under her exhausted eyes, but they lit up when Kurt and Blaine introduced themselves as FBI agents.<p>

"Someone's finally looking for Mary? Thank God," she opened the door fully to let them in. The room was actually pretty clean, though her desk was covered in books and paper. Like other dorms, there were candid photos of Laura and her family and friends on the walls. In contrast, Mary's side was bare. She had two photos: One of her and her family in front of an ancient farmhouse, and one of her and Laura on Laura's bed. Mary's books were neatly organized and the desk was bare of any stray papers. Blaine thought it resembled a much older person's room than a college girl's. Just about the only thing out of place was an asthma inhaler that was just tossed on the desk as if it had been forgotten. "Everything's exactly as she left it." Laura spoke from behind Blaine. "She was always neat and tidy."

He nodded. Kurt was studying the pictures, so Blaine figured he might as well get some information from the roommate. He slipped into "Friendly FBI Agent" mode and had Laura sit down to put her at ease. He brought her desk chair around for himself.

"You seem happy that we were called in for Mary's case," Blaine started.

Laura nodded quickly. "Yeah. No one here was worried at all. They all just said she probably went to a party, passed out, and she'd be back the next day. Nevermind that I told them that Mary doesn't drink or go to parties. Something happened to her." She stubbornly held her chin high. "Do you have any theories yet?"

"Um…we have some ideas," Kurt gestured at the desk. "Can I look through her drawers?" Laura shrugged, so he went back to ignoring the conversation and began rifling through Mary's things.

"Do you have any idea where she might have gone the night of October 6?" Laura was already shaking her head. Blaine tried again. "Do you know why she might have left the dorm then?"

Blaine watched her play with her blankets. He could tell she was reluctant to answer, but she got over her fear and looked him straight in the eye. "Look," Laura began, biting her lip. "I'm not going to pretend that Mary and I were best friends. We've only known each other since August. But she was a nice girl, if people ever bothered to learn." The last sentence had so much venom in it Blaine flinched. "I was out that night with some friends. I left around 10. Mary said she was going to have an early night and that I should take a key in case she wasn't awake when I got back. I didn't go back that night," she admitted sheepishly.

Oh. Well. Blaine wasn't even fazed. He could bet Kurt was an adorable shade of pink at the moment, but he was a gentleman and would not turn around to check. That would be rude.

"Did Mary have any enemies? Anyone who would want to cause her harm?" Blaine thought he knew what Laura would say. Sure enough, her face darkened and she scowled.

"Everyone made fun of her and how she looked. I thought bullies were only high school problems, you know? But no," She sighed. "Bullies exist everywhere. The worst though, was this girl, Marissa Clarke." Blaine saw Kurt look at him knowingly. "I never understood why that girl had it in for Mary. She and her clique of boytoys. You know how she's telling everyone she was dating Joey before he died? Nope," Laura gave a short bark of laughter. "She was fucking all of them."

Just when his opinion of Miss Marissa Clarke couldn't get lower. It blew Blaine's mind that some people could be so cruel. "What sort of bullying did they do to Mary?"

Laura looked ready to be sick suddenly. "Well, at first it was kind of harmless. Just name-calling on the way to class, hate notes in her bag or on our door. Once someone superglued Mary's text book shut right before an exam. This was going on for years, apparently. Mary told me about it one night. Then this year, I think it got worse. There was the Playboy flyer that went up the first week. Marissa started spreading rumors about Mary having HIV and herpes, which she didn't. Mary was still a virgin." Blaine tried not to react, he really did. But the girl was twenty years old. "She didn't have many takers after Marissa's smear campaign." That would explain a lot. "I think there was a lot Mary didn't tell me though," Laura mused slowly, looking at the faded carpet instead of Blaine. "She was really defensive and quiet. It took me weeks to get her to explain why Marissa always glared at us. Mary just had these crazy walls and barely trusted anyone after what that clique did to her. The bastards." Laura spat out.

"So I take it you aren't too upset with their deaths?"

Laura started. "What? I mean, people dying sucks, but I will be the first to say that those two had it coming. Maybe they didn't deserve to die," she was rapidly getting angry. "But they certainly deserved to be punished. Karma's a bitch."

Holding a stack of paper, Kurt waved to get their attention. "Did Mary say anything about having a secret admirer?" Blaine just stared, wondering what Kurt was getting at. Laura shook her head.

"Um, no? She didn't say anything to me about it," Laura could not keep the confusion out of her voice, and Blaine thought it seemed genuine. "Why?"

Kurt didn't answer her, but shot Blaine a look before heading to the door. Blaine stood up and excused them, saying how Laura had been a great help and that they'd be in touched. Just before they left, though, Laura called out.

"Agents?"

Blaine and Kurt turned around and paused.

"Please find her. She doesn't deserve to be forgotten like this." Laura's eyes welled with tears.

"We will." Blaine heard Kurt say. Laura nodded her thanks and shut the door.

* * *

><p>Blaine decided they should eat lunch before stopping by the police station to get the autopsy report on O'Donnell. It was a nice day, and he needed a break to mentally prepare himself for searching the room of yet another victim. He also had a few things he wanted to clear up with Kurt, who was obviously thinking hard about something. Blaine could tell by the way Kurt's eyes had clouded over and were staring at nothing. Which is how they wound up in a small café eating salads and sandwiches.<p>

The café was cute, and they were sitting outside. Blaine munched happily at his turkey BLT on sourdough while watching college students walk past in various stages of panic and Kurt picked at his salad and read the papers he had taken from Mary's room.

"Whadtcha readin'?" Blaine asked though a mouthful of bread and turkey.

Kurt shot him disapproving look. "Blaine Anderson, don't talk with your mouth full." Kurt scolded. The boy took another polite forkful of lettuce and dressing before returning to his papers.

Swallowing quickly, Blaine smiled apologetically. He forgot his manners a lot. Living on your own for a while will do that to anyone. But he was getting back into the habit now. Especially since Kurt was a big stickler for manners.

"Sorry." Blaine tried again. "What are those? And why were you asking about secret admirers earlier?"

For some reason, Kurt frowned at the sheet he was looking at. "These are love poems." Kurt handed a few to Blaine. Yeah, they were love poems. And they were really sappy. Cotton candy and marshmallows had less fluff than these. "I think someone was sending these to Mary. Her handwriting doesn't match these."

"Well, that's good isn't it? Someone liked her." Blaine was about to take another bite, but stopped at Kurt's miserable expression.

He didn't want to see that expression ever again. It tore at his heart to see Kurt so uncomfortable and upset. "What's wrong?" Blaine asked softly.

Kurt fidgeted in his seat before answering. "Well—it's just—this is all speculation, ok?" Blaine couldn't believe Kurt was actually nervous. Confident, sassy, proud Kurt was stuttering and avoiding his eyes. "I think it may have been fake. I think someone was setting her up by sending these notes."

Nodding slowly, Blaine was connecting together Kurt's theory. "So that's how they lured her out of her room. She probably got a text or something from the 'secret admirer' and went to meet him. And she was too embarrassed to tell her roommate?"

"That would be my guess." Kurt admitted quietly, still looking at his salad.

"So she might have left the dorms voluntarily and met someone somewhere. And then something went wrong." Blaine watched as Kurt nodded, still avoiding his face though. "And who do we know that would put so much effort into humiliating Mary?"

A snort. "Marissa."

"Yeah. And her clique. And who is dying now?"

Realization dawned on Kurt's face. He finally met Blaine's eyes with his wide blue ones. "Marissa's clique." He said with fascinated horror.

Blaine nodded grimly. "I think you're probably right. Marissa, Joey, Kev, and Nick got Mary to a secluded location, something happened, and Mary wound up dead. And now her ghost is taking revenge."

The sudden coldness in Kurt scared Blaine. "Great. We should just let this be then. Let her have her revenge." Kurt spat out bitterly. His arms were folded protectively against his chest and Kurt's shoulders were tight and drawn up.

"Kurt…" Blaine reached out to take Kurt's hand but the other boy twisted away. Frustrated, Blaine let his hand drop to the table empty. "I know this is hard for you—"

"—No you don't." Kurt hissed at him. "You don't know what it's like to be powerless against bullies every single day. To be at their mercy. Sure you hold your head high and claim to ignore their petty insults and childish attacks but it's all fake. Every day, you just wish for the power to fight back physically. 'Cause words don't work." So much bitterness and anger dripped from every word that Blaine felt his heart close to breaking. Kurt had suffered through all that? "We should let her have her moment. They had their chance to turn it around."

It killed Blaine to say these words. "Kurt, even as bad as Marissa and the rest of them are," he ignored Kurt's scoff and continued. "They don't deserve to die. It might have been an accident. And even if not, this is what the judicial system is for." Kurt was staring at Blaine with a carefully blank face. "I don't like it either. I do think Mary should have justice because what they did is unforgivable. But I want _justice_, Kurt. Not revenge. Revenge is never the answer." He hoped he could get through to Kurt because the poor guy was just so _angry_. Blaine really couldn't blame him for feeling the way he did, but murder was still wrong. _Come on Kurt. Do the right thing._

Conflicted feelings battled it out in Kurt's face. Finally he sighed, and held out his hand. Blaine eagerly grabbed it, happily squeezing in what he hoped Kurt recognized as comfort. Blaine really liked to hold hands.

"I don't like this." Kurt announced, glaring at Blaine. "But you have to promise that the survivors get put away for a long time."

"Done." Blaine grinned, and after a few seconds, Kurt cracked a smile too.

_"They don't know anything. Stop being such a baby!" _Nick Holden winced at Marrisa's shrill voice stabbing his ear. He moved the phone away slightly before speaking again.

* * *

><p>"The FBI guys asked me specifically about Mary! They have to know!" He bit his lip. "We should tell." Nick was trying to ignore the guilt that had been churning his stomach for the past two weeks, but it was getting harder. Especially now that he felt cornered.<p>

But Marissa was having none of it. This girl was psychotic. Why hadn't he realized before? A decidedly non-PG image of her barely clothed body rose in his mind. Yep. That was why.

_ "We are not going to tell. No one can prove anything. All we have to do is lie low and this will blow over unless you can't get a grip on yourself!"_ Marissa was practically screaming by the end.

Nerves were getting the best of Nick, and he knew it. "Joey and Kevin are dead, Rissy! Dead! Doesn't that seem weird to you? Two of the four people with this secret are gone. You or I could be next! We need protection!" Nick didn't mention how he had been feeling like he was being followed all day. Or how he kept looking over his shoulder. Or how he'd felt light touches brushing his body for the past couple hours. He was terrified.

Nick didn't believe in ghosts. But with what happened to Mary and now the deaths, he was strongly reconsidering his stance. He wished his roommate was back from his family visit. Being alone, even during the day, was scaring Nick more than it should. His nerves were screaming for him to get out.

The lights flickered. Nick heard Marissa's voice faintly, but he wasn't listening. The temperature in the room felt like it had dropped ten degrees. "Marissa?" he whispered, gripping the phone tight.

He felt his heart speed up and began hyperventilating, watching with horror as the flickering lights continued to cast strange shadows in the room. Wait. In the corner.

_Oh my God, no._

Nick dropped his phone and backed up against his closet. Marissa's voice floated out of the phone, crackling. _"Nick? What's going on? Nick? Nick?"_

The shadow in the corner winked out of sight before reappearing even closer. It was a girl, with long stringy brown hair and a dirty white dress. He saw blood drip off her fingertips, vanishing before hitting the carpet. She kept her head down, staring at her feet. He couldn't see her face. Nick had never been so terrified in his life.

"I-I'm sorry," he stammered. "I'm so, so sorry about what happened." Tears filled his eyes. He was only 20 years old, he wasn't ready to die.

The girl raised her head. Anger burned in her jet black eyes, which were rimmed with red. Her skin was pale and scratched. A low snarl began in the back of her throat as she raised her bloodied hands towards him.

Somehow, through his terror, Nick heard his door bang and a muffled voice shouting. He was numb though, and couldn't move or call out. He just watched as Mary took another step towards him, occasionally flickering like she was a picture from an old projector. _I'm going to die,_ Nick thought vaguely.

* * *

><p>Outside Nick's door, Blaine was cursing loudly. Kurt stood to the side with an iron fireplace poker. He hadn't protested when Blaine handed it to him, but did briefly wonder why Blaine kept one in his car. Blaine held the shotgun loaded with rock salt.<p>

"Door's locked." Blaine scowled. "I can't break this down." A scream erupted from inside, causing Kurt to jump. "Fuck. Fuck!" Blaine shoved his shotgun at Kurt, who barley caught it, and hunted through his bag for the other one he brought. "Stand back," he warned Kurt before leveling the new gun (this one loaded with actual buckshot) at the door.

_BAM._

A plate-sized hole opened in the wooden door. Through it, Blaine could see Mary's ghost about to grab Nick. She had a triumphant smile on. Blaine quickly switched shotguns again, poked the salt-loaded one through the hole, and fired. With a shocked scream, Mary disappeared. Nick howled as salt dug into his skin, though Blaine honestly couldn't feel too bad about it. He put his hand through the door and felt around before finally unlocking the damn thing. He strode in, glaring. Kurt followed silently.

Nick remained on the floor, moaning in pain. He was coherent enough to realize he was safe though. "What…the fuck…was that?" he huffed out between breaths.

"That was a ghost," Blaine replied shortly, reloading his gun.

"And you…shot it?"

"Rock salt. Ghosts don't like it. Or iron," Blaine gestured vaguely at Kurt's weapon. "Doesn't kill them, but dispels them for a little while. How long depends on the ghost though, so I suggest you come with us. Now." He yanked Nick up, ignoring his cries of pain and protest, and shoved him out the door before him. He wasn't coddling this idiot one bit. Seeing Mary going after him pretty much cemented Blaine's theory of them killing the poor girl in his mind.

People were poking their heads out their dorms in the hallway, faces filled with confusion and fear. It was the middle of the day, but gunshots and screams tended to wake even the heaviest sleepers.

"FBI. Go back to your rooms. Everything's fine." Kurt flashed his badge as he followed Blaine and Nick down the hallway.

Blaine practically threw Nick into the elevator before stabbing at the third floor button. He felt Kurt's hand on his shoulder and his friend's voice in his ear.

"Look, I hate him too, but you've got to calm down. He won't tell us anything if he's on the defensive." Kurt murmured softly.

That wasn't fair. Blaine glared at Kurt, deeply regretting saying those words only yesterday. Screw calming down. This guy killed someone and hid. Like a coward. And now Blaine was expected to save his undeserving ass. He could preach all day about doing the right thing, but the actual act was much harder. He glanced over at Nick, who was sitting on the floor hugging his knees. The junior's shoulders were shaking and his eyes were wide and glassy. Blaine groaned to himself, knowing Kurt was right. When the elevator doors opened, he accepted the duffel bag off Kurt's shoulder and watched Kurt haul up Nick out the door. He noticed Kurt wasn't too careful either.

Once they reached Marissa's room, Blaine banged on the door. They heard faint rustling, but no one answered. Impatiently, Blaine knocked again, this time shouting "FBI! Open up!"

The door opened, revealing Marissa with a hand on her hip. Blaine raised an eyebrow. This chick was actually giving them attitude? He saw Kurt purse his lips and smirk. Well shit, Marissa had better look out because Kurt looked ready to deliver a verbal smackdown of epic proportions. However, Kurt settled for shoving Nick at her and stepping over their tangled forms daintily.

"We have some things to discuss." Kurt sat in the desk chair and crossed his arms. Oh yes, that was his bitchface. In full force. Blaine tried to hide a smile at Marissa's sudden fear-filled face. Kurt watched coolly as Marissa tried to recover.

"Why'd you hang up on me?" she snapped at Nick, ignoring Kurt. "And what'd you do to your hands?" she added, noticing his torn up fingers.

Nick only looked at her miserably, before Kurt rescued him. "He was too busy being murdered by Mary Solomon's ghost." Kurt said calmly. "Though those hands look pretty bad…"

"Ghost?" Marissa shrieked.

Blaine examined Nick's hands. They had the same wounds as Joey's and Kevin's (he and Kurt had stopped by the morgue before rushing to the college). "Yeah, ghost. Some ghosts will cause their victims to suffer the same injuries they did before dying. It seems like Mary was clawing her way out of something before she died." He looked at Nick's wide eyes. "Any ideas what?" Blaine directed this question to both teenagers. Marissa cocked her hip again.

Sighing, Kurt rubbed his face. "Look. Here's the thing. We know you tortured the girl." Marissa scoffed. "We know about the notes." At this, Nick suddenly gulped and avoided Kurt and Blaine's eyes. Marissa continued ignoring the whole situation. Blaine snapped.

"That girl died because of you. No, don't deny it. The truth is written all over Nick's face." Blaine stepped towards her. "She is hunting you down and killing all of you. She murdered Joey, she murdered Kevin, and now she's after you two. Now, Kurt and I need to know what happened, and where, so we can save your sorry asses." His voice rose with every word until he was practically shouting.

"There are no such things as ghosts." Marissa studied her manicured nails.

"Yes there are." Nick finally spoke. Hoarsely, but he stood up and met Blaine's eyes. "I'm going to tell, Marissa."

"No you won't, because there's nothing to tell!" she hissed, blue eyes flashing angrily. They were so unlike Kurt's, Blaine noticed. Where Kurt had regalness and amusement, Marissa only had cold calculation and anger.

Nick took a deep breath. "I'm sorry." His voice broke, eyes darting from Blaine to Kurt. "I'm so, so sorry. She didn't deserve what happened."

Nodding his head, Kurt agreed. "No she didn't."

"It was Marissa's idea."

The girl cut in angrily. "It was not!"

"Shut. Up." Kurt glared at her and stood up. He had a good four inches on Marissa and he used them expertly. She seemed to shrink before his tirade. "I have had it up to here with you! This whole situation, while not entirely your fault, has a great deal to do with _you_, so I would like for you to man up and accept your punishment! Now, you are lucky Blaine is here, otherwise I would have just let Mary have her way with you because goodness knows you deserve it." By now, Marissa had backed into the bed, mouth agape. Blaine thought it was the first time any one had ever stood up to her. "You WILL sit down, and NOT interrupt again unless it is to give necessary details. And when this is over, you WILL go to the police and confess everything. Otherwise you are on your own."

Marissa settled for angrily glaring at Kurt, but stayed quiet. Kurt nodded for Nick to continue.

"A-anyway," Nick began again. "Rissy thought it'd be fun to send Mary love poems. You know, just to mess with her a bit." Blaine heard Kurt snort. "And then, um, one night, Rissy had Joey text her saying to meet him in the woods just outside town. Kevin stole her phone once, that's why we knew her number. Anyway. At the woods. Well Joey was in the car and the rest of us were hiding in the trees where she couldn't see us. So Joey got her into the woods and then we um," Nick trailed off, looking guilty.

Blaine saw that Kurt was in no mood to be comforting, so he took charge. "Just keep going," he advised.

"Right. So then we jumped out and were saying some stuff and she got really upset and tried to leave, but Marissa stopped her. Then Kevin picked her up and we locked her into this old shed we'd found earlier." Nick said, shifting his weight and avoiding Kurt's glare.

The lights flickered. _Fuck,_ Blaine thought as Nick's face went pale. Kurt and Marissa, not knowing what this meant, glanced around the room apprehensively while the lights wavered again. Blaine tightened his hold on his sawn-off shotgun. Then he saw her. Behind Kurt.

"Kurt!" He fired just as Kurt instinctively ducked, but Mary had vanished before the salt hit her. She flickered back into view next to Marissa.

Her eyes were smoldering with anger and hate, and her bloodied hands were clenched into fists at her side. "They left me in there," she hissed, her voice echoing as if coming from a long distance. "As I pounded and scratched at the door." There was a whimper from Blaine's right, probably Nick. Marissa had hidden behind Kurt, squeezing his shoulders. Blaine tried to ignore a brief flare of jealousy at the sight of her touching Kurt. Mary's ghost winked out of sight before reappearing in front of Kurt and Marissa, snarling. Blaine didn't think Kurt's eyes could possibly get any wider. "They left me to die when I screamed that I couldn't breathe!" Mary's face was inches from Marissa's. Then Blaine remembered the inhaler in Mary's room.

Everything was clicking into place. "So that's what happened?" he said wonderingly. Mary turned her red-rimmed eyes to his, though didn't move. Kurt and Marissa were frozen, while Nick backed against the door and sobbed quietly. Blaine licked his dry lips. The words began pouring out. "It all makes sense now! That's why this is happening!" He ignored Kurt's _What-the-hell-are-you-on?_ look. "They led you out to the shed, and locked you in. You tried to get out, but they wouldn't open the door. You tore up your fingers on the door, but you were trapped. And you have asthma." The lights flickered dangerously again. "Right. Asthma. So you started to have an attack. But they still didn't let you out, and by the time they realized you were in serious trouble, it was too late and you died. Died because you couldn't breathe." Marissa's fingers were digging into Kurt's shoulder hard enough for him to wince. "But that's not all. No," Blaine stepped towards Mary, who remained still. "because you might have forgiven that. What you couldn't forgive is when they walked away and left your body. You didn't want them to live free of consequence. So you took matters into your own hands. Literally. You made them suffer as you had suffered. The hands. Suffocating." Blaine's voice was soft at the end, full of sympathy and understanding.

As Mary gazed at him, something shifted in her eyes. She was gone for a second, back, then gone again. The lights shone steadily. Everyone stayed still, breathing heavily. Finally—

"Is she gone?" Marissa whispered.

"No." Mary's ghost grabbed Marissa's neck with her mauled hands and everything went to hell. The lights resumed flashing, papers swirled around the room and Blaine felt himself shoved out of the room along with Nick. The door slammed shut, but not before Blaine saw Kurt's terrified face.

"Kurt!" He banged on the door, but it remained stubbornly solid. The pounding and yelling drew attention though, as people poked their heads out their dorms. From within, Blaine heard Marissa screaming. He was trying to think, _think_, about how to save his best friend. "Listen! Listen, Kurt can you hear me? Can you hear me? Kurt!" He kicked the door desperately, but the stainless steel lock wouldn't budge.

"I can hear you!" Kurt's voice was slightly muffled, but thank god. Blaine prayed he could make this work.

"Alright! Listen. Ghosts don't like iron. You still have the poker right?" A faint _Yeah_ came though. "Good. Just swing it at her; she'll leave for a bit. When she does, look in the duffel bag for a big thing of salt. Make a circle and get inside with Marissa." He paused while Kurt snapped _Salt? Are you fucking kidding me? She's killing Marissa now! _Blaine sighed. When would Kurt ever stop questioning him? "Don't you trust me? The salt ring will protect you. I gotta go. I'll call you." He stood up as Kurt shrieked from him to stay and turned to Nick. "Take me to that shed. Now." Nick rushed to do what he said. Because the look in Blaine's eyes was terrifying.

Kurt was pissed. How dare Blaine just leave him like that? He had better have a plan, Kurt thought grimly, tightening his grip on the iron poker. Marissa was rapidly turning blue from the lack of air and as she clawed at the ghost, her fingers dripped blood. Kurt took a deep breath and swung the poker at the ghost's body. Mary screamed and vanished in a burst of red sparks. Kurt didn't halt his swing though, allowing the iron weapon to hit Marissa's stomach squarely. He didn't particularly feel bad when the idiot college girl bent over wheezing. Instead, he dropped to the duffel bag and rummaged through hurriedly.

"Where the fuck is the salt?" he ground out, mentally cursing Blaine for dragging him into this mess. Which wasn't fair, seeing as Kurt was the one that insisted on coming, but still. Imminent danger meant he could think whatever the fuck he wanted, logic be damned. Kurt felt his fingers close on the cylindrical salt container. _Finally_. He stood up, glancing around for any sight of Mary. Still gone.

Marissa was huddled on the floor crying. Kurt growled and hauled her to a standing position, pouring a ring of salt around their feet. "Do not step over the salt." Kurt said, glaring threateningly at Marissa, who just clutched his arm and nodded. Nothing to do but wait now. Kurt held the poker like a baseball bat. He hoped the ring would hold. He hoped he was brave enough to do this job. Most of all though, Kurt hoped Blaine knew what the hell he was doing because Kurt seriously doubted his ability to hold Mary off for long.

The lights flickered again.

* * *

><p>In the car, Blaine glared at his passenger. "You better hope to God that Kurt survives. 'Cause if he dies for you two, you won't have to be afraid of Mary. You'll have to be afraid of me." he growled out.<p>

Nick gulped. Blaine floored the accelerator, following Nick's nervous directions to the stretch of highway where Mary met her death. He drove one-handed, the other clutching his phone to his ear in a death grip.

"Just hold on a little longer," He said soothingly into the phone. Blaine really hoped Kurt couldn't hear the nervousness in his voice. Apparently not, though, since Kurt was too busy snapping at him.

"_You hold on longer! She keeps glaring and making it windy and the salt keeps moving!"_ There was a startled scream and a growl of pain. _"Jesus-fucking-Christ, Marissa! If you squeeze my arm like that I can't swing!"_ Blaine heard an angry voice yell back. They sounded like they were bonding well, Blaine thought ruefully.

Twenty minutes after leaving the campus, Nick told him to pull off the highway. The forest next to the road was fairly thick and ominous. The late sun shone through the spare leaves left on the grayed trees. Blaine paused to grab another container of rock salt (as a hunter, you can never have too much salt) and a can of gasoline. He ignored Nick's questioning glance when he shoved the materials into the college kid's hands.

"_Blaine. Please tell me you have a plan."_ Kurt's voice wavered over the phone. Blaine felt something cold settle in his stomach.

"I do. It won't be much longer."

"_Good, 'cause we're running out of salt to fix the circle."_

Blaine swore as he followed Nick through the bare trees, tripping over roots and trash left by passing motorists. Hopefully this worked. He wasn't sure if he could live with himself if something happened to Kurt.

Finally, they reached a dilapidated shed. It sat in the middle of a clearing, probably forgotten for years until discovered by local college kids. Empty beer bottles and plastic cups were strewn across the ground. Blaine followed Nick to the weather-beaten shed door. Pushing it open, Blaine coughed as the stench assaulted his nose.

No matter how many times he smelled it, he would never get used to the reek of a decaying human body. Mary Solomon had not yet been fully reduced to bone, probably because the shed prevented large scavengers to feast and protected her from the elements. Even so, bits of blacked skeleton peeked through the rotten flesh, and fat flies lazily buzzed around the body. Blaine saw she was wearing the same white dress her ghost chose to. He dimly heard Nick puking outside. Heart full of sympathy, Blaine scattered salt across her body before drenching the remains in gasoline.

"Kurt?" He said sadly into the phone.

"_Yeah?"_ He heard Kurt grunt from yet another swing.

"I need to know if this works immediately. Ok?

"_Yes, yes, I'll tell you. Just hurry. We're fading here and I'm seriously starting to consider just giving Marissa to her cause this bitch is pissing me off." _Angry shrieking was heard. "_I don't see you lifting a finger to protect yourself, Miss Hussy!" _Kurt snapped back.

Blaine sighed, silently pleading with Mary to forgive him. He pulled out an old lighter. As the flame flicked into existence, Nick stepped up next to him.

"I'm so sorry," Nick breathed.

The flames spread across Mary quickly. They flashed blue for an instant. Blaine thought he heard a distant cry, but it faded before he could be sure.

* * *

><p>The salt ring had long since broken. Kurt currently had Marissa backed up into the wall and brandished the iron poker hell of lot more confidently than he felt. Honestly, his arms hurt. The poker was heavy (it was <em>iron<em>) and he'd spent the past ten minutes swinging it liberally. Mary seemed determined to claim Marissa, and was returning faster from every swing. Like she was building up a resistance or something. Also Marissa's continual shrieking in his ear was getting annoying.

Kurt really hoped Blaine would hurry up with his "plan."

He groaned when the lights began the tell-tale flickering that signaled Mary's return. Marissa's fingers dug into his shoulders again, and Kurt was fairly certain he'd have permanent bruises there when this was all over. Bitch. He readied the poker, dropping the phone to the floor so he could use both hands.

Mary stood in front of them. Her black eyes glared while her fingers clenched at her dirty white dress. She took a step forward, a low growl forming in her throat.

But before Kurt could swing the poker, Mary froze, eyes widened in shock. She lifted her head to the ceiling and let out the most hair-raising, tortured scream Kurt had ever heard. Flames engulfed the ghost in seconds. The burning figure flickered once, before collapsing in on itself and fading.

Kurt and Marissa just stared at the spot Mary had been only moments before. Neither moved. Dimly, Kurt heard Blaine calling for him from the phone on the floor. With shaking hands, Kurt bent over and picked up the phone. "Yeah?" he said in a strangled voice.

"_Oh my god, never do that again. I thought you died!"_ Kurt could hear Blaine hyperventilating through the speaker.

"I'm fine. We're fine. Sorry." Kurt ran his fingers through his hair. "Mary's gone. Burned up. Blaine…is it over?"

"_I think so. Salting and burning the remains usually works for ghosts."_ Kurt blinked at that because…what? But Blaine was still talking. _"We'll be back in like 20 minutes. And Kurt?"_

"Yeah?"

"_Good job."_ Blaine's voice definitely had a smile.

"Thanks." Kurt hung up, a faint smile on his lips. It faded when he remembered Marissa. He fixed the girl with his scariest glare. "You sit your ass down. We have things to discuss." She let out a whimper as she did what he said. Perfect.

* * *

><p>Somehow, Kurt was driving Blaine's precious Mustang. He only offered since Blaine always drove and looked tired, but was shocked when he shrugged and tossed Kurt the keys. This was…well, it was Blaine's <em>baby.<em> It was one thing to let Kurt fix the car up, but quite another to allow him the honor of actually _touching_ the wheel. And the gas pedal.

It was like Kurt giving Blaine free reign over his clothes. Which was not happening in the near future.

But here he was, sitting in the driver's seat while Blaine relaxed next to him and sang along with Liam Gallagher.

"_Her sooooooooooooooooul slides away, but don't look back in anger, I heard you say,"_ Blaine's rich voice blended amazingly well with the radio. He grinned when he noticed Kurt looking at him out the corner of his eye.

Kurt snorted. "This is not classic rock," he told his passenger.

Blaine just laughed. "I have other tastes." He said in an affronted voice.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah! Like…" Blaine thought for a moment. "Katy Perry."

Kurt just raised an eyebrow.

"Her stuff is catchy. Come on." Blaine said defensively.

Shaking his head, Kurt looked back at the road. They had left California behind about two hours ago and were currently driving through Nevada, which looked like a desert. Wes and David had seen them off. Kurt hoped he'd see them again. For all their sexual innuendos and not-so-subtle hints about Kurt and Blaine's relationship (or lack of one), it was nice to have friends that knew about his new life. He wasn't sure he could ever tell his New York friends about ghosts or demons. Or Blaine. Another tumbleweed blew by.

"You ok, Kurt?" Blaine asked. His voice was quiet, like he knew what Kurt was really thinking about. It was getting kind of creepy how well Blaine could read him. But comforting.

Life was weird.

"It's just—" Kurt paused, trying to collect his thoughts. "Mary had a real reason to hate Marissa and Nick and all them. And we stopped her. It just doesn't feel like we won."

Blaine nodded as if to himself. No doubt he had been here many times before. "This job is hard, Kurt. I warned you." He spoke over Kurt's angry protests. "No, look. It's not…it's not always about winning. Mary was hurting, and she lashed out in the only way she knew how. As much as she deserved her revenge, she deserved justice more."

"But what if Marissa and Nick don't turn themselves in? I won't let them get away with this." Kurt's eyes flashed. "I won't. It's not right."

"Nick will. He cared. At the end, he cared about what happened. He'll force Marissa to go to the police." Blaine sighed at Kurt's disbelieving glance. "If they don't, we'll come back." he said.

Kurt scoffed and tightened his hands on the wheel. "Good."

They drove in silence for a little while, the only sounds coming from the radio. It was on a commercial now.

It was Kurt that broke the quiet.

"Blaine?"

"Yeah?"

"What did you do to her at the shed?" Kurt asked. If he was going to be a hunter, he needed to know these things.

Blaine watched Kurt drive for a few moments before answering. "I salted and burned her remains." He said matter-of-factly. He almost smiled at Kurt's sudden glance. Kurt hadn't really believed him earlier. "It kind of forces ghosts to move on. 'It's like death for ghosts,' my dad always said. I think he was quoting another hunter. It sounds harsh, I know, but…" Blaine hesitated. "I like to think they go to a better place. Somewhere where they can be at peace and not worry about revenge or pain or suffering. Just somewhere better." He trailed off, mumbling the last few words.

Next to him, Kurt smiled. "Blaine Anderson, you are a romantic."

"Ha. Guilty." He couldn't help feeling happy about the fact that Kurt hadn't laughed at his cheesy feelings. Kurt understood him.

_Life is like a game of chance_

_ Some find riches and some romance_

Blaine turned up the radio. "Don't you dare insult Bad Company. You just can't." His mouth dropped open in shock when Kurt winked at him and joined in with the chorus. Kurt did so like the oldies! All those hours of complaining where total bullshit! And that voice? He totally had been holding out on him. The jerk.

_Oh I will face the sun_

_ Leavin' shadows for behind_

_ And together we'll go on_

_ Through time, oh yeah_

"Just you know Blaine," Kurt broke off singing for a second. "I pick the next motel. And diner." Blaine didn't even mind.

* * *

><p><strong>Songs:<strong>

**"Don't Look Back In Anger" by Oasis**

**"Crazy Circles" by Bad Company**


	3. Don't Look Under the Bed

**Author's Note:**

**Wow, I'm so sorry this took so long. Again I've been on vacation and had to actually interact with my family (the horror!) so not much got done. I actually got home yesterday and crapped out the ending this morning. Be proud!**

**This weighs in at more than 12k. Like I said, be ready for long updates.**

**Also, I haven't started the next chapter and the next few days look busy so don't expect an update right away. I'm sorry =[**

**Oh! And shout out to anniebee93 who left me a review for BOTH chapters! THANK YOU! Seriously, it's so cool to hear feedback because again, I have no idea what I'm doing and if I'm doing something wrong or badly, let me know so I can fix it? All you readers rock, thanks for taking the time to check out my insanity =]**

**ps- I suck at titles. So those will be interesting.**

* * *

><p><em>Gables, Nebraska<em>

Jenny Smith was ready to scream.

She liked kids. She did. But the McGallagher twins were two of the brattiest, vilest, evilest little midgets she had ever had the misfortune of babysitting. For ten-year-olds, they were too smart for their own good. First they tag-teamed her with water guns the second their parents drove away. Then they stole her phone and texted every boy listed a love note. Then they flushed her science notes down the toilet and the test was tomorrow and Mr. Harmon's tests were harder than most college exams.

The high school senior glared at her two charges, who were sitting on the couch in front of her. She swore they could communicate psychically and the looks they kept exchanging were worrisome.

"My mother used to tell me that little children that do not behave will get carted off by the boogeyman." She tried to sound threatening. Jenny noticed their ears perked up though. Hmm. Maybe she could use this. "Haven't you ever heard the story of the boogeyman?" She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. Yep, they were hooked. Little boys were so predictable. Mention anything even slightly forbidden or secret and they wouldn't be able to let it go.

The one on the left swallowed. Ethan, she was pretty sure. "What about the boogeyman?" he whispered, brown eyes open wide. His brother, Logan, nodded with his mouth open.

Jenny was dancing inside. "If you two get changed and go to bed right now, I'll tell you the whole story. It's very scary, though, I don't know if you're old enough to hear it…" The boys were off the couch and halfway up the stairs before she finished. Why didn't she do this two hours ago? Jenny sighed at her earlier self's mistake and followed the boys.

Inside their room, she sat at the bottom of the queen the twins shared. They had brushed their teeth and hair and were in matching Spiderman pajamas, wearing twin expressions of anticipation and fear. To keep up the air of fear, Jenny purposely left only one bedside light on, leaving the rest of the room shrouded in darkness. The two boys huddled close to each other. She could tell they were holding their breath.

"When I was a little girl," Jenny's voice was low so they had to lean forward to hear everything. "My mother told me a story that her mother told her that her mother brought over from the homeland of Russia. She spoke of the boogeyman—or, in Russian, the _buka._ _Buka_ is an old, old man with a huge nose and warts all over, long, twisted fingers and burning red eyes with a heart even darker than the darkest night."

The boys' brown eyes could not possibly get any wider. The wind helped out her story by causing a tree branch to knock against the window, causing all three to jump at the sudden sound. Jenny briefly considered toning the story down. But to hell with it. They had tortured her earlier.

"The _buka_ carries a sack with him everywhere he goes. It's huge and dirty and filled with patches, for it gets much use. He hides in houses with children. His favorite hiding places are the closet—" She glanced at their closed closet door for effect. "—and underneath beds." A brief look down. The boys were practically peeing themselves.

"What does he want?" Ethan finally asked in a strangled whisper.

Jenny waited a moment before answering. "Children." She smiled inwardly at their resulting whimpers. It was kind of mean to scare them like this, yet she was enjoying it. Turning the tables on these terrors was satisfying. It might even make next time run more smoothly. She continued, still in the quiet, grave voice. "The _buka _takes bad and misbehaving children and puts them in his sack. Then he brings those children back to his cave. No one knows what happens in the cave because…" She paused, taking in their bated breaths. "_no child ever returns." _She finished in a dramatic whisper.

"That's stupid," Logan is the first to speak. "The boogeyman isn't real." Jenny heard the faint tremble in his voice though. Even his brother looked unconvinced. Someone was going to have fun sleeping tonight.

She stood up to tuck them in. "Maybe. Maybe not. The _buka_ loves to take nonbelievers. I think you should behave from now on." Logan stuck out his tongue as she pulled the covers up. "Goodnight, you monsters," She blew them both a kiss and began walking to the door.

A tiny voice called out before she got there though. "Wait!" Ethan glanced at his brother as if ashamed. "Can…can you check the closet? And the bed?" He kept looking at her as his brother laughed and called him a baby, obviously more scared of the potential boogeyman than Logan's ridicule.

Jenny's voice softened. "Of course." She strode over to the closet, avoiding the various action figures and plastic cars that littered the floor. Flinging open the closet doors, she checked behind the hanging clothes and the darkened floor before declaring it to be clear. Then she walked over to the bed.

Logan had a bored expression on, as if this charade was beneath him. He thought Jenny hadn't noticed his tense shoulders relaxing when she declared the closet safe. Ethan meanwhile was clutching an old teddy bear to his small chest, still with huge eyes. Ah, children.

Dropping to her knees, Jenny thought she caught a whiff of decay. But the smell was gone when she sniffed again. Weird. She crouched down, lifting up the bed skit for a better view. At first only darkness greeted her but then she saw two round spheres gazing back at her. She opened her mouth to scream but only got out a short yelp before a pale, wizened arm shot out and grabbed her neck. She felt herself pulled under the bed with a surprising amount of strength before everything went black.

"Jenny?" Ethan's voice was small. He crawled to the edge of the bed and cautiously looked over the side. "Jenny? Where are you?" he said with a touch of hysteria. The floor was bare. He looked at his brother, who peered over the edge too.

Logan swallowed hard. "This isn't funny, Jenny! Come out!" he said, trying to sound braver than he felt. "We're sorry about earlier, please come out now!"

The boys listened, but the room was quiet except for the continuous tapping from the tree branch on their window.

"Jenny! Come on, stop it!" Ethan was almost in tears by now. Logan grabbed his brother's arm, eyes wide. A dark liquid was slowly spreading out from under the bed. He stretched out his hand to touch it, but Ethan grabbed his arm. "No! Don't!" he said in a horrified whisper. Logan scoffed at his brother, but picked up his pillow and dipped a corner into the puddle. He lifted it to the light. The deep red mark dripped as the two boys screamed.

* * *

><p><em>Somewhere in Wyoming<em>

The town was small and quaint with one main street that held all the stores. Nearly all the buildings had brick fronts and white porches and families walked on the sidewalk waving to every storekeeper and smiling. In short, it seemed like something out of a fairytale.

It freaked Blaine out.

But he was being pushed into a music store by Kurt at the moment so running was not an option. He gave up struggling and walked inside, trying to retain some dignity. Despite his earlier apprehension, though, the store was fairly large. They had a whole wall of electric guitars, another dedicated to acoustic, aisles with tambourines and microphones, a few ukuleles, four large drum sets, and tons of accessories scattered all over the place. Blaine felt his fingers itching to play. But he had sold his guitar for money for food months ago. He couldn't afford to waste another couple hundred on a useless object. He turned to Kurt.

"Why are we in here?"

Blaine didn't like the smirk Kurt had on. It made him nervous. "We are in here because I have five grand left on this." Kurt held up a credit card with a flourish. "I am assuming that having a way for the government to track our movements is undesirable, yes?" He smiled at Blaine's reluctant nod. Blaine was currently wanted in five different states for various reasons. All misunderstandings, of course. "So we should use this up before I ditch it. Therefore…" Kurt walked Blaine over to the acoustic guitars. "You are going to buy a guitar and serenade me on the long, boring, tedious rides."

Blaine decided he really liked seeing Kurt this happy and giddy. Damn him. The guy already had Blaine wrapped around his finger. He really hoped Kurt hadn't realized that, but judging by the look on his face? Yeah. Kurt totally knew.

However, Blaine knew there was no arguing with Kurt. And he had missed playing a lot. Plus serenading Kurt sounded awesome. He reached out to test the nearest one.

"'As you wish,'" Blaine quoted, smiling at Kurt's giggle.

In the small café, with a guitar case resting against Kurt's chair, Blaine poured over a newspaper. Kurt sipped his coffee (a non-fat mocha, and no, Blaine did not immediately commit this information to memory, what are you even talking about?) and watched Blaine scan the articles.

"Anything interesting?" he asked before taking another sip.

"Yeah, actually." Blaine folded the paper and slid it over so Kurt could read. "This article right here," he pointed it out. It had a small picture of a pretty girl, who was maybe about seventeen. "Jenny Smith from Gables, Nebraska. She was babysitting, and she vanished right in front of the two boys she was watching. All they found was a puddle of blood under the boys' bed." Kurt raised his eyebrows at that. "Doors and windows were locked when the parents got home. No one can figure it out."

Kurt slowly nodded. "So…we investigate?" he said with a smile.

"We investigate." Blaine grinned.

* * *

><p>This time, they were state troopers. Undercover state troopers, which meant Blaine could wear the black leather jacket he knew Kurt liked so much, and Kurt could rock his boots with fifty buckles. Blaine had slowly managed to get Kurt to dress down in the past few weeks, seeing as graveyards and McQueen pieces did not go well together. His jeans at least were slightly looser and Kurt wore more t-shirts than cashmere sweaters. He still refused to touch plaid or flannel though. Apparently there was a story behind that, but Kurt wouldn't explain. Blaine thought he'd get it out of him eventually though.<p>

The McGallagher house was an average suburban home, well-kept and clean. Kurt and Blaine sat in the living room with the family: Karen and Tom, a couple in their late thirties, and their ten-year-old twins, Ethan and Logan. The twins fidgeted under Blaine's gaze.

"We've already talked to the police. I don't see why we should put my children through any more pain by making them tell you what happened again." Karen said disapprovingly. The blond was obviously used to getting her way. Kurt eyed her expensive wardrobe and meticulously styled hair. He guessed she held an important position in her job. Her husband was slightly more relaxed, with a light beard and a plain polo shirt instead of a button down. The boys, though, had t-shirts and jeans on, but were quieter than any kids Kurt had ever known. They made eye contact with no one but each other.

Blaine put on his best reassuring face. "We understand, but we need to hear everything firsthand. For the report. We want to help Jenny and make sure this never happens again." He said soothingly. Kurt could just see Karen melting. It was a little irritating how easily Blaine charmed people.

"Well…alright. Boys? Answer Officer Collins and Officer Gaines' questions, you hear?" The boys nodded nervously at their mother.

Kurt figured he might as well try to step in. "Why don't you tell us what happened that night?" he said kindly.

The one on the left brushed his light brown hair out of his eyes and crossed his arms, glaring defiantly. Kurt remembered him being identified as Logan. Ethan finally spoke.

"The boogeyman got Jenny," he whispered. His parents exchanged knowing glances, as if they had heard this story before, but Logan glared at his brother.

"You're not supposed to tell!" He said, punching Ethan's shoulder. "He'll come back if we tell!"

"Nuh uh! We gotta tell! We gotta be good now!" Ethan retorted.

Blaine cut in. "Ok, ok. That's enough. Now. Ethan." Ethan turned his big brown eyes on Blaine. "Can you tell me why you think the boogeyman got your babysitter?"

"She was telling us the story. She called him a _buka_. The _buka_ is a scary old man that hides in closets and under beds and takes away naughty children to their cave where they never come back." Ethan said in a rush. Karen frowned. "So we made her check for the boogeyman in our room but when she looked under the bed he got her." His eyes grew watery. "Me n' Logan were afraid to leave the bed and call someone so we just waited there until Mom and Dad came home."

"There was so much blood." Logan said quietly. "Do you think Jenny's ok?"

"We didn't mean to be bad! We were just having fun!"

"The boogeyman must have been there for us but he got Jenny instead!" Logan burst into tears, Ethan following after a second.

Tom quickly moved to calm the boys and Karen escorted the "officers" to the hall. "I suppose you want to see their room?" she said dryly. "Up the stairs. First door on the right." She watched as Kurt and Blaine climbed the stairs.

On the second floor, the boys' bed room had crime scene tape stretched across the door. Blaine ducked under before motioning for Kurt to follow. He flicked the light switch on. Inside, the room looked like any ten-year old boy's would. It had a space theme, dark blue walls with rocketships plastered around the room, a hard wood floor, and a solar system mobile hanging from the ceiling. The bed had a spaceship patterned comforter, but it was pushed aside. Kurt doubted that the twins had slept in this room since their babysitter vanished.

Spreading out from under the bed was a large, faded bloodstain. The sheer size of it looked foreboding. Jenny could not have survived that much blood loss. Kurt forced down a shudder.

"Kurt, help me move this." Blaine was straining to pull the bed away from the wall. With Kurt's help, the bed reluctantly dragged across the floor.

The blood stain pooled into a perfect circle except for the part near the wall, where it looked like something had been dragged towards the air vent at the wall's base. The vent was large, large enough for a person to crawl around in. Blaine pulled out a flashlight and knelt down, careful not to step on the blood. Kurt began unscrewing the other side of the vent. Once the grate was removed, Blaine turned the flashlight on and peered inside.

"There's more blood in here. Also…" Blaine reached inside and pulled out a clump of matted brown hair.

"Jenny's?" Kurt asked with a sick feeling in his stomach.

Blaine nodded and sighed. "Probably." He shined the flashlight around the inside of the vent one more time before standing up. "Ok. So we can be reasonably certain that we're dealing with an actual creature and not a ghost."

"Oh? And why's that?" Kurt said dryly.

"Because not many ghosts kidnap people. I've only heard of few. Plus, this neighborhood is only fifteen years old. The McGallaghers are the first owners. There shouldn't be any ghosts here yet. I research!" He said defensively at Kurt's raised eyebrow. "Just because I fell asleep the last time doesn't mean I always fall asleep!" Kurt merely gazed at him with a small smile. "Oh shut up."

Outside the house, they found more blood smears around the air conditioner unit, and again just inside the sewer grate in front of the house. Kurt groaned at the sight.

"I hate sewers." He scowled.

* * *

><p>Gables's library was huge. Their fantasysupernatural section took up an entire aisle and was filled to the brim with books on every creature imaginable. The books, however, were caked in a layer of dust so thick Kurt swore he was getting asthma just looking at them. He finally grabbed a thick volume titled _Legends of Russia_ and lugged it back to the table he and Blaine shared. They had been researching for two hours and neither had much to show for it.

At least Blaine got the laptop. No fifty-pound books with potential diseases for him. When Kurt told Blaine this, though, he got a snort in return.

"At least books have proper punctuation and grammar." Blaine glared at his screen. "Kurt, do you have any idea how many boogeyman legends there are?"

"Vaguely," Kurt muttered, thinking of all the books he had looked at during this study session.

Blaine ignored that remark. "Hundreds. There's one for every damn culture. And every one is different. In Chile, he walks around in broad daylight and snatches kids off the streets. In the Netherlands, he delivers presents but takes the bad kids away. Sometimes he hides in closets and under beds, sometimes he's a green fog, and sometimes he gives people warts. I mean seriously," Blaine crossed his arms and leaned back into his chair moodily. "What the hell."

"The kids did mention Jenny calling him a_ buka_. And we know that's Russian. We can start there." Kurt began flipping through his book. The yellowed pages gave off a musty smell. He finally found the page on _buka_. It was short. And unhelpful.

_The _buka_ is the Russian equivalent to the American "boogeyman." It is a creature that takes the shape of an old man that takes away naughty children in a large sack. It hides in closets and underneath beds, waiting to take its victims once night falls. Mothers threaten misbehaving children with a visit from the _buka_, which usually remedies the situation quite well._

Kurt shut the book with a slam. "Well thank you very fucking much, Vladimir." Kurt scowled at the author's name. "Blaine, if this thing is the boogeyman, how are we going to kill it? I can't find anything."

"I have no idea. There's nothing on killing boogeymen on any sites I've seen. Everything only describes them." Blaine rubbed his eyes. "Maybe it's just a normal creature where I can just shoot it and not worry about needing a blade made out of brass and stabbing it exactly seven times."

Kurt blinked. "There are creatures that can only be killed with a brass blade and seven stabs?"

Blaine chuckled at that. "Kurt, baby, you have no idea."

"Guess I don't," Kurt mused, picking up his book with a grunt. "Also," he glared at Blaine. "Don't call me 'baby.' At least not yet."

Blaine didn't fistpump the second Kurt turned his back. No way.

* * *

><p>By now, Kurt had learned not to wear designer anything while one the job. He was currently covered in sewer grime and muck and hated it. There was no way Blaine was getting the shower first after this. No way.<p>

He wiped his bangs off his sweaty forehead. "Blaine. It's dark and gross in here. Shouldn't we just call this off and go to bed and look in the morning?" He dodged a particularly large drip of green water. The flashlight wavered in his hands as Kurt struggled to balance both the flashlight and the gun which, against his better judgment, Blaine had allowed Kurt to carry. It was a small handgun, nothing like the sawed-off shotguns Blaine seemed to favor, but it felt powerful in Kurt's hands.

Though that might be because Blaine didn't let Kurt near his guns. Ever. Stupid Blaine.

"No. It's best to strike now, before he realizes we're on to him." Blaine whispered back. He trained his light on the ground, straining to see the faint blood trail they had been following since the McGallagher's through the moss and dank puddles. "Come on. This way." He led Kurt down yet another tunnel that was just as dark and rotten-smelling as the last.

Kurt glanced up at the few grates he passed. Stars winked back through the bars.

"Also it's supposed to rain tonight and I don't want to lose this trail." Blaine called over his shoulder, voice just below conversation level.

Kurt looked back up at the sky. No stars this time. Well, shit.

"Blaine Anderson, if it rains on us while we are in the sewers, I am going to kill you." Kurt hissed at Blaine's back. "I mean it. I'll…I'll shave your eyebrows. And straighten your hair. And steal every left sock you own."

He saw Blaine's shoulders shake with laughter at that last threat. "Well, I'm terrified now," Blaine snorted, goofily grinning at Kurt.

"We'll see who's laughing when you get blisters on your sockless feet," Kurt muttered darkly. A faint rustle caught his attention. "Blaine, did you hear that?" He stepped closer to his friend.

"Hear what?"

"A rustle. I heard fabric rustling."

To Blaine's credit, he didn't question Kurt. Instead he stuffed the flashlight back in an inner coat pocket so he could operate the shotgun with two hands. "Kurt, you're gonna have to be my light. Keep it steady and aimed ahead or at the noise." He didn't complain when Kurt pressed up against his back. Not at all.

There was an intersection just ahead. The flashlight illuminated about fifteen feet ahead before the light faded into the darkness. The boys tried to keep their steps silent as they crept up the tunnel. Blaine motioned for Kurt to cover the light and stopped next to the intersection's corner. Kurt could still hear faint footsteps, but couldn't tell which direction they were coming from.

"On three, shine the light down the left tunnel. You ready?" Blaine whispered.

Kurt nodded before he remembered Blaine couldn't see him in the gloom. "Yeah," Kurt breathed.

"Alright. One. Two." Blaine adjusted his grip. "THREE!"

As they burst around the corner Kurt squeezed his eyes shut, expecting to hear gunshots. Instead, Blaine just yelled in shock.

"Santana! What the fuck are you doing here?" Blaine sounded almost angry.

Cautiously opening his eyes, Kurt saw a small Latino girl about their age with long black hair and dark eyes. She was dressed like a female version of Blaine: a brown leather jacket, worn jeans, a tight t-shirt. She also carried firepower, though her weapon of choice was a handgun as opposed to a shotgun. The girl smirked at Blaine before scanning Kurt. He wished he looked more badass. Or intimidating. Kurt had a feeling showing weakness in front of this chick was a bad idea.

"New boytoy?" Santana kept smirking as she lowered her gun, holding out her arms.

"Uh, first of all, that's none of your business," Blaine grinned before giving her a tight hug. "Second, no, he's just a friend. Kurt Hummel." Blaine gestured towards Kurt.

Kurt smiled weakly. "Hey," he said.

* * *

><p>With the pleasantries out of the way, Kurt found out that Santana Lopez was another hunter that had grown up with Blaine. She was pleasant enough, if a bit crude, but she seemed to like him. The girl told Blaine he had good taste at least, though Blaine just blushed and muttered something about a lack of privacy.<p>

Santana came to Gables for the same reason as Kurt and Blaine: to investigate supernatural doings. She, however, had looked at an earlier disappearance than Jenny's. Brendan Latch vanished two days before Jenny Smith, but had been listed as a suspected runaway due to his constant rebellion. He was only fourteen. He was also Santana's cousin. She sniffed at Kurt's sympathies.

"I don't need your 'sorries.'" She said shortly. Blaine put his hand on Kurt's shoulder and silently motioned for Kurt to let it go. Santana took the lead, with Kurt following and Blaine bringing up the rear. The silence stretched on, punctuated only by splashes when one of them walked through a puddle. Kurt couldn't take it anymore.

"So how did you and Blaine meet?" he suddenly asked before cringing inwardly. _Tactful, Hummel, _he thought ruefully.

Blaine answered first. "We've known each other since we were 10. Our parents decided to team up against a werewolf, and we were left in a shared motel room for a few days while everything went down." He smiled sheepishly at Kurt's shocked face, instantly reading the unasked questions. "Yes, there are werewolves. They are vicious and dangerous though, so hopefully we won't run into any. And don't worry about our childhood. It really wasn't that bad."

It was getting creepy (yet strangely comforting) how well Blaine could read Kurt. _Shit, he's gonna know all of my secrets in like a week at this rate._ Outwardly, Kurt just shrugged, and continued scanning the flashlight around the walls, looking for hints of the blood trail they were tracking.

Santana had been listening. She smirked when she turned around. "That's it, Blaine? That's all you're telling him?" Kurt saw Blaine flush a deep red. Oh this could be interesting.

"Santana, please no…" Blaine mumbled helplessly.

She had other plans. Turning to Kurt, Santana's smirk widened. "Blainey over there and I have had many adventures. Our parents were very good friends. We were left alone together a lot." She put enough emphasis on that last word to make Kurt slightly nervous. He chanced a glance at Blaine, who looked resigned. "Soooo many juicy stories to pick from. What do you think Blaine? Maybe the time you almost burned the room down making toast? Or when you shot your foot and I had to drive a stolen car to the hospital? Or maybe when I helped you figure out that you were gay—"

"Please stop!" Blaine blurted out, cheeks burning. "Kurt doesn't need or want," He shot a pleading glance at a snickering Kurt. "To hear about that. Any of that."

Santana winked at Kurt. "You'll be getting full details when Hobbit Boy stops being such a stick in the mud." Kurt raised an eyebrow. Blaine resolutely ignored them, preferring to mope instead. He examined the walls.

"Wait, Blaine, move the flashlight back." Kurt interrupted Blaine's sulk. Blaine glanced at Kurt, but did as he asked. "There. On the ladder. Is that blood?"

Blaine examined the dark spot on the third rung, dipping his finger in it. When he pulled it away, the tip was stained a dark red. "Yeah, looks like."

"I can't find the trail," Santana called from up ahead. She stood up from where she had crouched down, stretching. "Ugh. I'm tired. And feel disgusting. Let's go back to the motel and eat and shower."

Kurt eagerly nodded at her words. Blaine looked like he was about ready to protest, so Kurt put on his best pleading face. It worked like a charm. He could just see Blaine's resolve crack.

"Fine." He sighed. "We can leave this for tomorrow." Blaine felt inside his pocket for his phone. "It's getting late anyway," he said absently, checking the time before stowing the phone. "Might as well walk back outside. I'm sick of the sewers."

As the three climbed the ladder to the outside world, none of them noticed the matchbook from the motel fall out of Blaine's pocket.

* * *

><p>Blaine and Kurt soon found out that when Santana said "let's go back to the motel" she meant "let's go back to your motel and your room because I'm staying with you guys instead of getting my own space."<p>

There were times Blaine kind of hated his childhood best friend.

He absently plucked at the strings of his new guitar. Kurt watched from the other bed, but stayed quiet. Santana was taking forever in the shower. Blaine glared at the closed bathroom door, silently wishing her hell for making Kurt sit in sewer filth for so long (Blaine won their rock-paper-scissors game earlier and so had been the first to test out the crappy shower). Surprisingly, Kurt was being gracious about the grime, which was a welcome change from the first week on the road. When Blaine mentioned this fact, Kurt only sniffed and said that one could get used to anything, including wading through shit when one fought ghosts on a daily basis. Blaine couldn't really argue with that.

"Play me something." Kurt demanded, then looked surprised and blushed when he realized what he said. Blaine loved watching Kurt blush. It was adorable.

Well, he couldn't leave Kurt hanging, could he? Blaine grinned when a song popped into his head. It was perfect. He scooted back on the bed and crossed his legs so he was more comfortable and let his fingers pick out the melody.

He saw Kurt roll his eyes when he recognized the tune, but Kurt was smiling, so Blaine figured it was a good sign.

"_You think I'm pretty without any makeup on,_

_You think I'm funny when I tell the punch line wrong,_

_I know you get me, so I let my walls come down, down,"_

Blaine danced as best he could while sitting on the bed, grinning at the huge smile on Kurt's face. Seriously, it could light up the world. Blaine wondered if anyone had ever sung to Kurt like this. Sure, Kurt said Jesse was a theater major, but he seemed like the kind of guy that sang _at_ someone, not _to_ someone. He bet the douchebag had used Kurt to practice on. He made an artistic decision. Pausing long enough to get the guitar strap over his head, Blaine jumped up and began to _really_ dance.

If this didn't scare Kurt away, nothing would. But Blaine hoped Kurt would appreciate his silliness. He didn't stop smiling when Blaine leapt on the bed and began rocking out (as best he could to Katy Perry, that is).

"_Let you put your hands on me in my skintight jeans, be your teenage dream tonight."_ Blaine finished with a flourish, dropping to his knees in front of Kurt. He was aware he had his puppy-looking-for-approval face on (Santana had named it), but Kurt just laughed and clapped.

"You weren't kidding about Katy Perry, were you?" He teased.

Blaine scoffed and sat back on the other bed. "I would never kid about Ms. Perry," he said in a scandalized voice. "But anyway, did you like it? That was the first time I tried playing that song and I think I was off on the timing…" he trailed off when he saw Santana in the doorway. She evidently had finished her shower and was in a tank top (tight, of course) and sweatpants. She waved her hand dismissively.

"No, by all means, keep serenading your boyfriend." Again with the smirk.

Santana was keeping score of how many times she could make him blush, Blaine was sure of it. He purposely avoided Kurt's eyes as he put the guitar back inside its case. It was the wrong move, Blaine realized, when Kurt's shoulders stiffened.

"I'm taking a shower now." Kurt said stiffly, stalking off to the bathroom and shutting the door hard. Blaine winced. He'd have to do damage control later. Preferably when Santana leaves.

Speaking of the psychotic girl, Blaine glared at her. "Could you like, not try to embarrass Kurt at every opportunity? It's rude, and I'm sick of it." He paused. "How's Brittany?" Blaine asked hesitantly.

Santana narrowed her eyes. "We're not talking about Britt. We're talking about Kurt." She finally said in clipped tones. "He's hot; you like him, so just tap that so you can leave him and move on."

Blaine stared at the Latino girl for a few seconds. She wrapped her arms around herself and looked at her feet. Growing up, Santana had been one of Blaine's only friends that knew the truth about his life. Days of being trapped in various schools and motels with her meant Blaine could tell when Santana was hurting. He decided to try to be diplomatic.

"I'm going to ignore what you said about Kurt because you're right, I do like him. A lot. And I want to keep travelling with him. He doesn't deserve to be fucked and dumped like some cheap whore." Santana stiffened at his words, but strangely stayed quiet. Blaine sighed to himself, and walked over to put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry about Brittany though," Blaine said softly.

Wiping away a stray tear, Santana sniffed. "It's fine. She's found someone else. Some cripple in a wheelchair. They're living together now and she's happy. She's safe." She said bitterly.

Blaine hugged her. "If you want to talk about it, I'll listen. But please leave Kurt alone. He's gone through a rough time and doesn't need a relationship now. He's…he's not Brittany."

"You need to be careful, Blaine. This job does not bode well for couples. Or 'friendships,'" Santana corrected herself at Blaine's disapproval.

"I'll deal with it. Kurt chose this life. And not for some crush. He had a real reason, otherwise I'd have left him back in Ohio." Blaine met her glare evenly. Santana realized it was a lost cause.

She flopped down on one of the beds. "I don't share." She stated. Then turned over and pulled the covers up.

_Well fuck._ Blaine groaned to himself. They didn't have any extra covers or pillows so Blaine would have to convince Kurt to sleep in the same bad as him or he'd have to sleep in the car again. And Kurt was probably still pissed at him. Dude could hold a grudge. _Goddammit, Santana._

He sat back on the open bed and began leafing through an old book on Russian folklore while he waited for Kurt to finish showering.

* * *

><p>Blaine was right, of course. Kurt was pissed.<p>

Not that he expected Blaine to suddenly profess his love or anything.

And not that Kurt was ready for a relationship yet.

But still. Being ignored like that was insulting.

He savagely yanked on his boxers and t-shirt, before lightly toweling his hair dry. Kurt glanced at his bag of lotions and skin-care products before deciding that fuck it, he was too tired and too annoyed to bother. Brushing his teeth, however, he would do. Because dental hygiene was important even if he was a hunter.

After brushing his teeth and folding the towel, Kurt stepped back into the room. And groaned.

Santana was asleep in one the beds and had claimed the entire thing. Arms and legs spread out, leaving no room.

Blaine was reading in the other. When he noticed Kurt, though, he winced and stood up, looking sheepish. Kurt decided on the silent treatment.

He crossed his arms and glanced at the bed pointedly, silently demanding Blaine explain the situation.

Kurt was pleased to see Blaine looked uncomfortable. Revenge was sweet. Blaine swallowed uncomfortably.

"Look, I know you're angry, and you have a right to be; I was being a total dick earlier by letting Santana get to me," Blaine faltered a little under Kurt's cold gaze, but soldiered on. "But I'm really, really sorry. And, um," he gestured towards the bed. "We kind of only have one bed, 'cause Santana doesn't share ever, but if you're still mad I can sleep in the car, but if not can we please share, 'cause it's really fucking cold outside?" This was all said very fast and with a great deal of nervousness, and Kurt had to try very hard not to smile at Blaine's hopeful face. He instead put on an unimpressed face. It lasted about five seconds.

"Fine. I forgive you. Sort of." Kurt gave Blaine a crooked smile and walked past him to the bed. As he slid under the covers, he didn't notice Blaine fist pump happily. A few minutes later, Kurt felt the bed dip next to him and Blaine got in.

"Um, I know this is kind of weird to ask, but can I um, hold you?"

Kurt's eyes flew open at that. Well. That was unexpected. He turned over to stare at Blaine, who was shifting uncomfortably. What the hell was Blaine thinking?

"I-I just like to hold on to things when I sleep." Blaine looked miserable as he stammered out an explanation. Kurt had noticed this quirk. Every time Blaine slept, he cuddled either an extra pillow or a book or a blanket. Pretty much anything he could get his hands on. And as Kurt took up half the bed, there wasn't much else for Blaine to hold. Actually, the thought of Blaine's warm arms around him was really nice. Jesse never cuddled. Or sang to him. And goddamn it, Kurt was going to have to stop comparing Blaine to Jesse because those thoughts could go nowhere good.

In the meantime, though, Kurt really wanted to cuddle with Blaine. So fuck boundaries.

"Yeah. You can." Kurt's mouth twitched at Blaine's huge and relieved smile. "But first I want to ask you some things." Blaine's smile fell. Kurt thought about how to approach the subject most delicately. "Who is Brittany?"

Blaine sighed. "You heard our conversation earlier, huh?"

"No. Not all of it. Just the beginning."

"Well," Blaine lifted his head slightly to glance at Santana's sleeping form. She seemed asleep, at least. "Santana and Brittany were lovers."

Kurt eyes widened. "So Santana is—"

"Yeah. And she really cared about Britt. Like, a lot. She'd have died for her. But…" Blaine looked away from Kurt, but began stroking his hand. "They…they were hunting a werewolf in Montana. And it went bad. Really bad. For a while, we didn't think Brittany would make it. And when she did pull through, Santana knew that it was too dangerous for Britt to stay with her. So she left." Blaine closed his eyes at Kurt's gasp. Kurt squeezed his hand.

"Santana just left the girl she loved?" Kurt tried not to get angry. He really did.

Blaine finally dragged his eyes back up to meet Kurt's. "Kurt, you don't understand. This job; this _life_, is lethal to a lot of hunters. Most barely live past their forties. And couples never survive together for long. By leaving, Santana probably saved Brittany's life."

"That's bullshit." Kurt snapped, yanking his hand out of Blaine's and turning his back. He glared at Santana's sheet-covered back. Blaine was softly calling his name, but Kurt ignored him. When Blaine snuck an arm around Kurt's waist, though, Kurt didn't protest.

"Kurt…" Blaine said sadly, gently pulling the boy into a one-armed hug. He was a little taken aback when Kurt suddenly turned over and fiercely glared at him.

"Don't you ever do that to me." Kurt's blue eyes flashed. "Don't leave me like that. I am an adult and fully capable of making my own decisions. I know this life is dangerous, but I'm willing to accept the risks. If you decide that you hate me and want to split up and go our separate ways, fine. But you tell me to my face and give me a chance to change your mind." Kurt's voice got harsher. "But don't abandon me. Too many people have left me in the past, and I can't go through it again." Fuck, Kurt hated crying in front of Blaine. But the tears forced their way out. "Just…please, Blaine." He whispered brokenly. "Please don't leave me like that." He buried his face in Blaine's shoulder.

Blaine didn't speak for a long time, just holding onto Kurt and rubbing comforting circles on his back. Kurt's mom died when he was little, his father just died, his former boyfriend cheated on him, and God knew what else life had thrown at this poor kid. Blaine wondered if he could deal with Kurt getting hurt because of the job. Because of him. But…Blaine also wondered if Kurt could handle Blaine walking away. _Ah, decisions…_

"I won't. I promise." Blaine finally whispered.

* * *

><p>Hours later, Kurt bolted upright, a scream dying in his throat. Next to him Blaine jerked awake, a gun mysteriously appearing in his hand.<p>

"What-what's wrong? What's goin' on?" Blaine asked, still pointing the gun in every direction. He had a hand on Kurt's chest as if he was trying to shield his friend from some unknown attacker.

Kurt sighed and fell back, chest heaving as he tried to calm down. "Just a nightmare, Blaine. Go back to sleep." He laid on the bed while he waited for his breathing to return to normal. "Wait, you sleep with a gun under your pillow?" he stared at Blaine.

"Um. I like to be prepared?" Blaine offered sheepishly.

Kurt rolled his eyes. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand between the two beds. The digital display read 4:06. Spectacular. Kurt closed his eyes. It had been a horrible dream. At least, the parts he remembered. Something about being alone; everyone he knew dead and what-not. But he woke up next to Blaine. There was that. And he had to pee. "Go to sleep, Blaine."

Blaine didn't seem to be relaxing. "You sure?" he slowly lowered the gun when Kurt rolled his eyes and nodded.

Flinging back the covers, Kurt got up and groaned as his muscle protested the movement. "Gonna go to the bathroom." he said. Kurt shuffled his way across the room. Once inside the tiny bathroom, he waved at Blaine and shut the door.

Somehow, Santana was still asleep. Blaine envied her. He could rarely sleep all the way through the night. But for some reason, holding Kurt felt great. He'd slept better than he had for a long time.

Until Kurt woke up screaming.

Blaine shivered. That had been the scariest thing he'd ever heard. It was so full of terror and fear and heartbreak. That dream must have been awful.

While he waited for Kurt, Blaine stared at the darkened ceiling and thought about how scared Kurt had been before they fell asleep. Kurt hadn't believed Blaine at first, but after repeated promises that Blaine would at least have the balls to confront Kurt before running away, he'd finally drifted off. Blaine had a sneaking suspicion he knew what the nightmare was about.

Where the hell was Kurt?

Just as that though crossed his mind, a scream and crash shattered the silence. Santana woke at that one.

"Wazzat?" she sleepily mumbled, but Blaine was already out of bed and at the bathroom door; gun in hand.

"Kurt!" Blaine jiggled the door handle, but it was locked. Growling, he tensed his shoulders and hit the door dead on. It shook a little but stayed closed. Judging by the noises, Kurt was putting up a hell of fight. Blaine hit the door again.

"Blaine, help!"

He must have taken a break from fighting because Blaine heard the lock click open. Almost at the same time, however, Kurt's yell was cut off with a sickening crunch. Blaine's stomach dropped about thirty feet.

"No! Kurt!" Blaine shoved the door open into a destroyed bathroom.

The mirror was shattered. Glass shards covered the floor, a few tiles were broken and the toilet seat lid was cracked. The worst was the blood. The red liquid was spread on the floor and counters, with a small patch on the seat lid. Blaine noticed all this later, though. Right now, he was focused on a dirty old man with a large patched sack sitting on the bathroom windowsill. The window was open, and a slight breeze moved the old man's long beard. They stood frozen, staring at each other. Until the old man smiled, revealing his blacked stumps and crinkling his red eyes. Blaine's eyes slid to the bag, which was very still though it had a dark growing stain near the bottom.

_Kurt…_

As soon as Blaine took a step forward, though, the old man giggled and toppled out the window, the bag following. Blaine turned and rushed out of the room to the door, pushing aside Santana, who had been standing behind him. He ran outside just in time to see the sewer lid in front of the motel clank shut.

"NO!" Blaine shouted. He dug his fingers under the grimy edge of the lid, fully intending to follow Kurt. A hand stopped him.

"Blaine, wait. You need to calm down and think." Santana's level voice only infuriated him.

"Fuck that. I'm going after him right now." Blaine tried to shrug off Santana's hands, but she was being annoyingly clingy. "Santana! Let me go!" He glared at her, chest heaving.

She stubbornly shook her head. "No. You need to relax. If you charge in all hotheaded, you're going to get him killed." Blaine instantly shut up at that. "You also need shoes. Running after the boogeyman in the sewers without shoes is a fucking stupid idea." Santana yanked him upright and started pushing Blaine back inside. Once she got Blaine to sit down, she shoved a book at his chest and tossed over some clothes and his shoes.

Blaine fought back tears while he changed. When he turned around, Santana was ready to go. He took a deep shuddery breath.

"What if we're too late?" he whispered.

Santana shook her head, dark eyes cold. "We're going to get him back." She said determinedly. "I like Hummel. No one is going to hurt him while I'm around. We're going to get him back. We're going to get both of them back."

Blaine nodded. He was not going to let Kurt die on him.

* * *

><p>Waking up on the ground sucked.<p>

Actually no, waking up on the rocky ground with a pounding headache sucked. Kurt groaned and brought a hand up to his aching head, wincing at the touch. His head felt sore and swollen and sticky. Awesome.

He finally forced open his eyes. Yep, his fingers were coated in blood. Which meant his hair was too and that was just _not_ ok. Kurt still took pride in his hair, and blood would take forever to get out. He tried to sit up, groaning at the sudden pain in his temple. Holy hell, he had hit his head on _something._

"Woah, take your time, man," a voice near his right said. Kurt felt hands help lift his shoulders until he was leaning against the (very hard and very rocky) wall. There wasn't much light in whatever they were in (some kind of rocky pit inside a cave?), but Kurt could see his helper was a young boy in his teens. He looked vaguely Latino.

Kurt started at the connection. "Oh! You're… you're Brendan, right? Brendan Latch? Santana Lopez's cousin?"

The boy nodded grimly. He wiped at Kurt's forehead with a damp cloth, probably from the small puddle Kurt could see on the other side of the pit. "He really got you good, didn't he?" Brendan whistled softly as the rag slowly got redder and redder.

Kurt snorted. His memory was coming back. "He took me in the bathroom. I hit the mirror first, got in a few good punches, but when I tried to get out he slammed me into the toilet." Kurt took the cloth and continued to clean his face and neck as best he could. The blood had dripped all the way down into his collar and felt gross. Brendan sat back on his heels. "Don't remember much after that. How long have I been out?"

"Couple hours," Brendan said. He hung his head and peered cautiously at Kurt through his thick eyelashes. "You know Santana? Is she coming to save us from the boogeyman?" he asked hopefully.

Ah. So it really was the boogeyman. Kurt scowled at his feet. Just once, it'd be nice if he didn't need rescuing. But whatever. That boogeyman was going to get it now. Blaine's probably pissed and if Santana wasn't on the warpath before, she certainly would be now.

At least, Kurt hoped so.

"Of course." He said aloud, ignoring the way his gut twisted nervously. He stood up and began exploring their prison, running his hands along the walls. "My…friend is with her. Between the two of them, we'll get out of this." Kurt glared at the rock. It was damp and cool and while not smooth, offered no footholds. The pit was about ten feet across and the walls rose almost twenty, so lifting Brendan up was useless. They couldn't climb out. The light was growing a little, but was still faint and grey. Kurt guessed that it was probably dawn light coming in through the unseen cave entrance. Giving up on an escape plan, Kurt finally really looked at Brendan.

The boy was small and thin, with tan skin and dark hair. His eyes were sunken and tired, yet his body was twitchy, as if he expected a blow at any moment. The dirt-stained and torn clothes hung off his body as if the boy had lost weight in the past few days. Kurt wondered if he'd eaten since being thrown down here. Brendan shifted under Kurt's gaze, sniffling slightly. Kurt's face softened. Holy shit, but this was just a kid. He should be at home; eating a hearty meal and complaining about homework, not huddling in a cold, dank cave waiting for the boogeyman.

"Hey, hey no, it's ok, it's ok," Kurt walked towards him and placed his hands on Brendan's shoulders. "Blaine and Santana are coming for us. They won't leave us. Ok?" Kurt hugged the kid hesitantly, stumbling a bit at the force of Brendan throwing his arms around him. "Shh." Kurt smoothed his dark, matted hair. "We're going to be alright. I promise." They stood like that for a while, until Brendan stopped sobbing out all the fear and terror of the past few days.

"He wants us to be afraid." Brendan mumbled into Kurt's shirt.

Kurt frowned at that. "Afraid?"

Brendan nodded. "He feeds off of fear. He's going to keep us down here while he looks for other kids. He wants us to be scared so when he comes back he can snack. Like a buffet." Brendan said all this as if it were obvious. His voice dropped. "Sometimes…he throws snakes down here. Or big rats. And there's nowhere to go so we have to face them and he just stands up there and laughs…" Brendan was shuddering violently. "I hate rats."

Kurt noticed the rat carcass by the water puddle earlier, but hadn't mentioned it. _Guess I know what it's from now,_ he thought, forcing down a gag.

More importantly though, he had to calm Brendan down. Because feeding the boogeyman a steady dose of terror would be counterproductive, right? Kurt tipped Brendan's chin up so he was looking at Kurt's face.

"So the boogeyman sat up there and told you all about his nefarious plans, right?" Kurt said with a smile.

Confused, Brendan nodded slowly. "Well, yeah."

Perfect. "Well then, he just made evil villain mistake number one," Kurt grinned mischievously. "Which is 'never tell your arch nemesis your nefarious plans.' See, now he's guaranteed to fail. As seen in ever Bond movie ever." Kurt's dad was a James Bond fiend and had every movie ever made about the British secret agent. Kurt had been forced to sit through all those movies multiple times and was fairly certain he could recite the script of _Goldfinger_ by heart.

But Brendan still looked confused. Damn kids.

"You've never seen James Bond? 'The name is Bond. James Bond.'" Kurt imitated a passable Sean Connery impression. "No? Well then you'll have to just take my word for it." He smiled reassuringly and sat back down against the wall. Brendan joined him.

"The bad guys always lose in James Bond movies?" he asked.

"Always."

"And Santana is coming to get me?"

"Definitely."

"Ok." Brendan bit his lip. "I'm going to try to be less afraid and make him weak." He said with confidence.

Kurt smiled again. "Sounds like a plan." He leaned back and closed his eyes, hoping Blaine would find them before the boogeyman came back. Just sitting around waiting to be rescued was insanely boring though, and Kurt wished there was something he could do.

If only he could climb the walls.

Stifled laughter startled Kurt out of his musings. It was bone-chilling and made Kurt think of horrible things, like spiders and snakes and ruined designer shirts. Reluctantly, Kurt opened eyes and looked up. Peering over the edge of the pit was the old man—the boogeyman.

Brendan tensed next to Kurt. "He's back," he whispered.

"Obviously." Kurt said dryly, glaring up at the creature. No way was he going to let him (it?) sense fear.

The boogeyman giggled again and leapt into the pit, landing gracefully. The cave was brighter now, so Kurt could see him clearly. Unfortunately. The boogeyman looked like an ancient man, but was tall, about six feet. He had dirty, ragged clothes, a long beard, a huge hooked nose and red eyes that glittered with malice. His arms ended in long fingers that resembled claws.

Kurt stood up, pulling Brendan up with him. He met the boogeyman's stare evenly, holding his head high and proud.

"I'm not afraid of you." Kurt declared. The boogeyman said nothing at first, but his eyes roamed towards Brendan, who whimpered and ducked behind Kurt. This was such bullshit. Kurt found that getting angry meant he was less scared, so he gave in. "You're pathetic," Kurt sneered. "Seriously, an old man disguise? That's so cliché. My cousin's stuffed animals inspire more fear than you. Go crawl back in your hole, grandpa." By the end Kurt was feeling rather proud of himself for not huddling on the floor and bawling. He could totally handle this thing.

The feeling faded somewhat when he was shoved up against the wall, the boogeyman's fingers wrapped around his throat.

_Well, shit._

The boogeyman leaned in close, his hot and rancid breath washing over Kurt's face. "I take children because they scare more easily," he said while Kurt choked and gagged. His grip was like iron. "But adults," he sniffed Kurt's face deeply, "Adults taste oh so much better. Because with children; they always have a little spark of hope until the very end. Only with adults do I get to taste true despair." He flicked out a wet black tongue over Kurt's ear.

Kurt shuddered violently and whimpered, before gathering his senses and punching the boogeyman's face. He felt a satisfying crack under his fist, and the pressure on his throat was instantly released while the boogeyman clutched his nose and howled. Kurt collapsed on the ground, coughing and trying to draw in a deep breath. He noticed with satisfaction that the boogeyman's face was covered in a dark thick substance that was pouring out of his broken nose. So it bled. Which meant it could die.

Finally straightening up, the boogeyman shot a look full of hate at Kurt. He marched over to Brendan and grabbed the boy's shirt front, lifting him up to his face. Brendan was practically crying. Before Kurt could protest, the boogeyman began sucking.

Kurt watched in horrified fascination as Brendan shook in the boogeyman's grip. A blue smoky substance drifted out of Brendan's nose and mouth, only to be drawn in by the creature's mouth. After a few minutes, he tossed Brendan at Kurt, who barely managed to catch the teenager. The boogeyman grinned maliciously at Kurt, his nose healed. He leapt out of the pit and disappeared over the edge, leaving Kurt to stare open-mouthed at the ceiling.

_Well, shit._

* * *

><p>Blaine Anderson was freaking out.<p>

Kurt had been missing for six hours-six full hours, in which Blaine had explored almost the entire sewer system (and found nothing—it had rained the night before like he'd predicted), had checked and rechecked the county and the next county's missing persons reports (the only people missing was Brendan Latch and Jenny Smith), and had paced up and down the motel room until Santana finally shouted at him to quit moving because he was making her nervous.

Where the hell could Kurt be?

He sat on his bed, one leg shaking and his head in his hands while he racked his brains. Santana was reading every book she could find on boogeymen and _bukas_.

_What if he was too late? What if Kurt was already dead?_ Blaine let out a whimper at that thought. No. Kurt was not dead. That was too horrible to even contemplate. No, Blaine was going to figure out where his best friend could possibly be trapped. _Alright, alright. Think, Anderson. The _buka_ takes its victims to a cave and does…something. No one knows. Takes them to a cave. So the sewers? He at least uses the sewers; we know that for a fact. I explored most of them this morning and there was nothing at all. So what does that mean?_ Blaine's eyes flew open. _Oh my God. Of course. He uses the sewers to travel. It can't be its hiding place. If the sewers are its road and no one else was missing since yesterday then…_ "I know where Kurt is." Blaine breathed.

"What?" Santana said absently, turning another musty page.

"Kurt. I know where he has to be." Blaine suddenly grinned. He jumped up and stole his laptop from Santana (closing her porn tabs—he definitely needed to talk to her about watching _that_ on his laptop), bringing up a map of Gables. "I was thinking. The sewers aren't where the boogeyman hides. It's where he travels. So Kurt can't be in the sewers."

Santana was blinking slowly. "Ok…so? That still doesn't help us."

Blaine was almost bouncing with excitement. "But it does! Remember that blood Kurt found on that ladder right before you lost the trail? No one was reported missing so—"

"—So that's where the boogeyman exited." Santana finished, shocked. "It's so brilliant."

"But that's not all." Blaine shoved the laptop at Santana. "Look, right here where the blood was found yesterday? It's on the outskirts of town. Not far from the cliffs. And those cliffs used be a source of gold, which means…"

By now Santana was completely on Blaine's page. "Mines. Kurt and Brendan and Jenny must be in those mines." She looked at the map again. The area looked huge. It was going to take several hours to explore. Hopefully Kurt Hummel was made out of tougher material than he looked. "Blaine. How are we going to kill the boogeyman when we find him though?"

At this, Blaine faltered for a second. He recovered quickly though. "I'm going to blow his head off." Blaine said calmly, cradling his beloved shot gun.

Santana shrugged. "Should slow him down at least."

* * *

><p>For some reason, luck was with them.<p>

When Blaine and Santana entered the sixth cave of the day, around dinnertime, they knew. Barely ten feet in, they heard voices: one a thin teenage boy's; another higher pitched though still male.

Abandoning all caution, Blaine flat out ran into the dark, flashlight waving wildly and Santana cursing loudly.

"Kurt! Kurt!" Blaine called. His heart was thumping. _Oh please God let Kurt be ok._

A voice answered his pleas. "Oh my God! Blaine! We're down here!"

Blaine stopped himself just before falling into the giant pit. He dropped to his knees, shining the light into the hole. It lit on a small, dark-haired, scrawny teenage boy and—looking rather dirty and not at all put together like usual—Kurt. He almost cried in relief.

"You're alive. Awesome." Blaine laughed breathlessly. "Ok. You're Brendan, right?" Blaine shined the light on the boy who nodded nervously. "Ok. Ok. Um." Blaine tried to think, to _focus_ on how the hell he and Santana were going to get the two boys out. Neither had though to bring rope, so one of them would have to go back to the car. "Hey, Santana?" Blaine called, but caught sight of her examining a lump of…something.

Once the flashlight's beam was on it, Blaine recognized the lump as the rotting body of a girl with long hair. So that's why there was a funky smell in here.

"Jenny." Santana said simply, walking away from the body. "Hey Brendan. Been a long time."

Brendan grinned up at her. "I knew you'd come for me." He said happily.

It was a very sweet reunion, but a bad feeling was poking at Blaine's gut. They had no idea where the boogeyman was or even how to kill it. Also there was the whole question of why Jenny was dead but Kurt and Brendan were still alive.

"Look, Kurt I know this is a bad time, but is there anything you can tell us about what we're dealing with?" Blaine finally asked, wincing at how worried he sounded. Kurt didn't seem to notice though.

"Yeah. The boogeyman feeds off of fear, which is why he left us here. I think Jenny was an accident. He meant to take the twins but accidentally killed her instead." Kurt sounded confident, reciting the information without hesitation. Blaine was so, so thankful he could keep a level head in a dangerous situation. Memories of certain other companions that were not so calm flitted by. But Kurt was still talking. "Blaine. He can be hurt. I broke his nose earlier, but if he feeds, he heals. But the boogeyman bleeds." Kurt stood proudly at the bottom of a pit covered in grime. "Also, when we get out of this, I call the shower first this time." He smirked.

Blaine laughed, shaking his head. "Of course."

So the boogeyman could be hurt. That was good to know. The shotgun might have some use after all.

Santana stood. "I'm going to get rope from the car. Keep alert." She glanced at the pit before jogging out of the cave into the dusk. Blaine watched her go, but didn't leave the pit's edge. Letting Kurt and Brendan out of his sight seemed like a bad idea.

To keep Brendan calm while Santana was away, Kurt and Blaine kept up a steady conversation about neutral topics. Brendan talked about being on the soccer team, his favorite heavy metal band, and a girl named Sarah who he possibly maybe sort of had a crush on. Kurt was teasing him about her when Blaine heard the crunch of pebbles under a weight. It sounded too heavy for a small woman though.

"Santana?" He called out cautiously, tightening his grip on the shotgun. Kurt and Brendan instantly shut up. They stared up at Blaine's back with wide eyes.

A hard force slammed into Blaine's ribs. He gasped and fell back, twisting at the last second to avoid the pit. Blaine scrambled up quickly from the ground, pointing the flashlight around the cave wildly. The beam fell upon a tumble of what looked to be rags.

The pile moved—there were arms, legs, a dirty head attached. The old-man-creature bared he's sharp teeth and long claws at Blaine, growling. _Oh, fuck._ Blaine swallowed. Going against any monster without knowing precisely what killed it was nerve-racking for Blaine. He felt naked.

Also there was the fact that a shotgun was usually a two-handed weapon, which meant he would be forced to put down the flashlight. Which meant the boogeyman could hide in the shadows and attack from any angle.

Blaine shifted his weight from each foot, trying to be ready to dodge to either side. The boogeyman laughed a hoarse, amused laugh. Blaine dropped the flashlight, aimed the gun and fired. He knew he'd missed the instant the hammer fell. Damn, but that thing moved fast. Another punch, this one hit the side of his head and Blaine cried out in pain as the taste of blood filled his mouth. He tried to see into the dark, hoping for just a glance of the boogeyman. A hard shoe kicked his left leg and Blaine collapsed to the ground, groaning.

"Blaine!" _Oh fuck oh fuck Kurt's still here._ "Blaine! What's going on?" Blaine could hear the terror in Kurt's voice. Kurt's words from earlier came back.

_'The boogeyman feeds on fear,'_ Kurt had said. Blaine felt his stomach drop. Then he cursed himself. Funny how being told not to be afraid of something usually makes you afraid of that something. The flashlight beam had fallen on the boogeyman. He crept up to Blaine, lips salivating. Holy shit, but he was big. And tall. The dark had hid him well.

Well, Blaine was well and truly terrified now. Blaine tried to scoot out of the away, but the boogeyman shot out a wrinkled but powerful arm and grabbed Blaine by the neck. His grip was loose enough to allow Blaine some air, but was like a vice. It wouldn't move, no matter how much Blaine scratched and struggled.

The boogeyman drew Blaine's face in close to him, sniffing Blaine deeply. Blaine watched his nose hairs move with his breath, slightly revolted. When the boogeyman opened his mouth to speak, Blaine gagged at the raw stench of decay and rot issuing from that wet hole.

"There are many types of fear," the boogeyman rasped, grinning evilly and showing off yellowed, rotted teeth. "Petty fear; nervous fear; fear for your life. But the best fear," he took another deep sniff of Blaine, who let out a noise of disgust. "The very best fear is the fear for someone else. For someone you love," The boogeyman began to giggle. He fixed Blaine with his deep red eyes.

Something was wrong. Blaine couldn't look away. A fog rose in his mind and his limbs became stiff. _Fuckfuckfickshitfuck_ repeated over and over in Blaine's mind. Not having control of his body was awful. Blaine was vaguely aware of a blue glow around him and a sucking noise. He felt like he was in a dream. The fog in his mind grew thicker, before clearing slightly.

There was something in the fog. Blaine walked towards it, towards a humanoid black shape. He briefly wondered what happened to the cave, but that wasn't important right now. The shape was closer and more defined.

More familiar.

Blaine gasped when the shape stepped close enough for him to see the details.

"This is your fault," said Kurt. He was dead. His clothes were torn and dirty; his skin pale and grey; his blue eyes faded and cloudy. Deep gashes all over his body stood out bright red against Kurt's marble skin. Blaine felt like he was going to throw up.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"You killed me," the Kurt-thing intoned. His eyes were incredibly sad. "I thought you would save me, but you didn't. You let me die."

"No," Blaine felt tears stinging at his eyes. A small voice was screaming in his mind that this wasn't real, but he ignored it. "I swear, I didn't mean to. I wanted to save you."

The thing stepped forward. Blaine didn't move. It wrapped Kurt's long, cold fingers around Blaine's neck. "This is what will happen if you keep me with you," it whispered into Blaine's ear. "I will die, and you will have to live without me. Forever." It tightened its fingers, cutting off Blaine's air. Blaine didn't struggle. "That is what you fear the most: a world without Kurt." Kurt smiled; a malicious smile Blaine had never seen before on his best friend. It contorted his features strangely. Blaine began to struggle again.

"You're—not—Kurt," He gasped out. The fog faded, long tendrils creeping out of sight. "This—isn't—real."

Kurt's dead eyes gazed at him curiously before morphing into the red eyes of the boogeyman. Blaine was back in the cave. The boogeyman still had an iron grip on his throat though, and dark spots were circling at the edge of his vision.

"You have provided me with a good meal," said the boogeyman. "But I think I have had enough of you." He squeezed Blaine's neck tighter.

Faintly Blaine heard Kurt yelling something from the pit. _If I have to die, at least he'll be the last thing I ever hear,_ Blaine thought dreamily. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't see. Blaine was ready to surrender when he heard a feral scream.

"HANDS OFF YOU WRINKLY OLD BASTARD!" Santana roared, wielding a huge machete. It collided with an extremely surprised boogeyman, loping off his head with one swing. It landed somewhere in the dark. His fingers instantly relaxed their grip on Blaine's throat. Blaine greedily sucked in air, coughing hoarsely. The boogeyman's headless body collapsed, thick black blood oozing from the stump. Blaine scooted away from it.

"Is it dead?" he croaked out.

Santana marched over to the body fearlessly. She poked it with the bloody machete. It didn't move. For good measure, she kicked it with a hard boot. No movement. "Dead enough," she shrugged.

"What's going on up there?" a voice drifted from the pit. Blaine crawled over to the edge and looked down. Kurt stood there with a rock in each hand, looking scared to death and ready to fight. "Blaine?" Kurt called worriedly. Brendan was huddled against the wall.

"Guess we better get them out," Blaine smiled weakly. Santana just smirked and unwound a thick rope from around her waist.

* * *

><p>The next day, Blaine was ready to leave Gables.<p>

In the morning, though. Because he was really fucking exhausted. After salting and burning the boogeyman's remains (Blaine's motto was 'when in doubt, salt and burn'), they went back to the motel to clean up and shower and get their stories straight for the morning. Because Brendan couldn't exactly say he had been kidnapped by the boogeyman. They settled on him getting trapped while exploring the mines. The next day had been spent at Brendan's house with Santana. The kid's parents cried and thanked them for saving their son. Blaine didn't miss the wide smile Kurt got when Brendan ran to his mom and dad and cried. It really was a good feeling. Knowing you've made a difference in someone's lives. Knowing you brought back someone's baby. Blaine was silently thankful Kurt got to experience that feeling at least once.

Later, while the family was pumping their aunt for details, Kurt whispered into his ear: "This is why it's worth it." Blaine looked into those shining blue eyes and could only nod in agreement.

Tonight, Kurt had made Blaine stay in the room while he went out to get them dinner. To kill time, Blaine was cleaning out his guns. Most of the bags were packed, and Santana was staying with the Latches'. Before he and Kurt had left, she pulled Blaine aside to give him a fierce hug.

'_Kurt's a keeper.' she said quietly. 'Don't screw that up.'_

Blaine hoped he wouldn't. But the boogeyman's vision kept returning. Every time Blaine contemplated leaving Kurt, his stomach twisted up painfully.

He didn't know what to do.

"Back!" a muffled voice called through the door. It opened to reveal a broadly grinning Kurt. He was carrying several bags, but waved away Blaine's offer to help. Kurt deposited the bags on the room's table, dragging the whole thing over to the bed so they both could sit.

Blaine watched wonderingly as Kurt began opening the paper bags. "We're here one night, Kurt, how much did you buy?"

Kurt shrugged. "It's Thanksgiving." He said quietly.

Oh. Blaine thought about it. Thanksgiving had never meant much to him. He was always on the road, and more often than not spent Thanksgiving by himself. He had vague memories of his whole family sitting together around a huge table, his father carving an enormous bird and his mother serving homemade cranberry sauce. But they were just memories.

"Dad and I used to have Thanksgiving together." Kurt paused, but kept unpacking. He revealed sliced turkey, a small container of stuffing, canned cranberry sauce (and a can-opener), microwavable mashed potatoes, and a case of beer. "It was the only time I'd ever let him in the kitchen. He was in charge of the turkey." Kurt smiled faintly. "Thanksgiving was always an important time for us because it meant we were still together. And even though it's different this year—" Blaine felt guilt rise up in his throat. "—I'd still really like it if you celebrate with me." Blaine saw the hopeful look in Kurt's eyes through the sadness.

"'Course I'll celebrate with you." He scoffed, trying to hide a grin. "You got pie, right? It's not Thanksgiving without pie." He smiled as Kurt rolled his eyes and took out an enormous apple pie. Blaine loved pie.

When everything was warmed up and set out without any major catastrophes (there was a mild incident with the potatoes but Kurt managed to rescue some, and now Blaine was not permitted near the microwave for anything), Blaine sighed happily.

"This is my first real Thanksgiving in years," he remarked. "So before anything, thank you for all this." Blaine held up a beer for a toast.

Kurt obliged. He looked into the small feast he had put together. "Thank you for everything." He said simply and drank deep.

Blaine copied. "Thank you for everything too." They shared a look of understanding.

But the food looked good, and they tucked in. Blaine demolished most of the pie and even convinced Kurt to have a slice. Kurt moaned about his figure, but Blaine saw him sneaking extra bites and teased him relentlessly until Kurt threatened to take back his guitar. Blaine said that was low because Pavarotti was both of their baby, and that selling her would be cruel, and then Kurt laughed at him for naming his guitar 'Pavarotti.'

Blaine couldn't remember a better Thanksgiving.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Songs used: 'Teenage Dream' by Katy Perry (don't judge me. I like that song. And I'm allowed my fluff, ok?)**

**Sidenote on Santana- I'm not completely thrilled with how I wrote her. I don't think I got the snarkiness right. Hopefully she'll come back so I can try again.**

**Also I love writing Kurt. Can you guys tell? Hahaha =]**


	4. The Devil Went Down To Jersey

**Author's Note-**

**Look! I got this up earlier than I thought! It's shorter than usual (10k+) and not my favorite so really apologize for that. I promise the next one will be better.**

**Um, again, thank you all so much for taking the time to read/leave me comments! I'm still in a state of shock that anyone's even seen this, let alone likes it. Every email from FF I get about my little fic makes my day. So thank you!**

**Just wondering, how did you come across this? I'm honestly so curious. Leave me a comment here or on my tumblr (link's in my profile).**

**Long-ass Author's Note at the end, fair warning.**

* * *

><p><em>-Ashpark, New Jersey-<em>

The woods were dark. Like, really dark. Tommy Sarino had no idea Jersey could even get that dark. He wished he had his phone. He'd finally convinced Emily to start going out with him (and hot damn, was she hot, for thirteen at least) but his dad decided to drag him on a hunting trip the entire weekend. For "bonding." Because shooting and skinning defenseless dear was supposed to bring him closer to his father. So here he was, trudging through a pitch black pine forest, trying not to drop his rifle and following his dad back to their tent in the middle of grand fucking nowhere.

Hunting was boring as hell.

Tommy tripped on a root and fell flat on his face. Perfect. He spit out pine needles and glared at his father.

Vincent Sarino laughed uproariously before helping his son up. He lifted the electric lantern up, quickly checking Tommy for any serious wounds. Tommy just pouted and shot him an evil look.

Kids these days. When Vincent was younger (and thinner; years of hearty Italian cooking had expanded his stomach), he used to live for hunting trips with his father. The exhilaration of the hunt, carefully spending hours tracking a buck through the wilderness, cooking fresh meat over a roaring fire—those were the days. Now, Tommy was more attached to that newfangled piece of plastic and his girlfriend—like thirteen-year-olds could have a real girlfriend.

Something on the ground caught his eye. Vincent bent over to peer at the ground, ignoring his son's moans and grumblings. The earth was covered in wet leaves and moss, but what…ah. He held the lamp closer to the mud.

"Is that a hoof print?" Tommy frowned over his father's shoulder. He poked at the mark with the tip of his rifle. "What's someone doing with a horse around here? Woods are too thick for riding, aren't they?"

Vincent shrugged and shook his head. "Maybe someone got lost." He said lightly. "Let's get back to camp." He tried to ignore the sense of foreboding suddenly washing over him.

Back at the camp, Tommy was still moping about no internet access. His father groaned at him and told his son to quit whining. Tommy watched Vincent march out into the woods for a bathroom break. He sat next to the fire they'd managed to coax into being and moodily stared at the flames.

Only one more day and they would be back in civilization. _Thank God._ Tommy thought sourly. He had had just about enough of the blood, sweat and mosquitoes. Why there were mosquitoes out in November, who knew. Mother Nature was a bitch.

A branch snapped. Tommy glanced up into the dark woods. After a few seconds, the forest remained quiet and still. Goosebumps erupted on Tommy's skin. _Where did all the bugs go?_ _And the birds?_ Nothing stirred. No crickets chirped, no owls hooted. Tommy decided he didn't like the woods.

"Dad?" He called out nervously, ignoring his pounding heart. No answer. Alarm bells were ringing in his head as he thought about all the local legends and stories surrounding these woods—the stories his dad had laughed at. Under the cover of darkness and a full moon, though, the stories seemed all too plausible.

"Dad!" Tommy yelled louder than before. The bushes on the other side of the fire rustled.

Out stepped the strangest creature he had ever seen.

It was about five feet high with the head of a horse, great fangs, large bat wings, a devil's forked tail and hooves, although it walked on its hind legs. Tommy gaped at it, and it glared right back, black eyes glowing madly. It appeared to study him for a minute before slinking back into the shadows. Tommy remained frozen to the spot, staring at the place it had vanished.

He hadn't moved when he heard his father screaming moments later.

* * *

><p>-<em>I-90, Montana-<em>

_Lord I was born a ramblin' man,_

_ Tryin' to make a livin'_

_ And doin' the best I can_

_ And when it's time for leavin',_

_ I hope you'll understand_

_ That I was born a ramblin' man_

Blaine watched Kurt out of the corner of his eyes as Richard Betts sang about his father down in Georgia. Kurt was looking out the Mustang's window, fingers drumming in time to the old radio. Faintly, Blaine could tell Kurt was humming along.

"Hey," Blaine finally said. Kurt turned his head, but didn't say anything. He kept tapping his fingers on his knee though. "What are you thinking about?"

Kurt shrugged and looked back at the passing landscape. Montana was gorgeous today: clear blue sky, open road, mountains in the distance.

"Nothing. Just thinking. My life is so different and it's only been a little more than a month. It's just weird." He sighed and leaned back against the seat. "I don't even cringe when I get into a motel shower anymore." Kurt shuddered at how far his standards had fallen.

Blaine laughed. The first week had been stressful, what with trying to convince Kurt to willingly step into a room with a cockroach in plain sight. Kurt slept in the car for three whole nights before finally accepting that car seats; while possibly more sanitary than a $50-a-night motel room, were simply not comfortable. How Kurt managed to retain dignity throughout that whole debacle, Blaine had no idea. The showers were a completely different story and Blaine was not eager to relive _that_ experience any time soon.

"Where are we going anyway?" Kurt interrupted Blaine's reminiscing. He had his arms crossed and watched Blaine with interest. They'd been driving since dawn that morning, but Blaine didn't mention a destination. He'd wanted it to be a surprise, but they were almost there.

Might as well tell him now.

"We're going to the roadhouse." Blaine grinned. Honestly, he loved the place. He didn't visit nearly as often as he should, and he knew he was going to get an earful from Quinn about staying away. Not to mention how intensely Mercedes would quiz him about Kurt. But the real home-cooked food and cold beer would feel like heaven.

Kurt, meanwhile, gave Blaine a look of confusion. "What's the 'Roadhouse'?"

Instead of giving a straight answer, Blaine decided to be mysterious. "You'll see," he said teasingly.

Kurt frowned, but didn't question further. The radio station switched to "American Woman" and Blaine began singing along at the top of his lungs.

After a few lines, Kurt joined in.

* * *

><p>The roadhouse, it turned out, was a decrepit old wooden building in the middle of Nowhere, Montana. Seriously, Kurt was pretty sure they had passed maybe two towns on the way and one of them had six houses and a farm. Strangely enough, though, the dirt parking lot had a few cars lounging in it. Each was more dusty and ancient than the last. Kurt eyed the sagging stoop and hanging wooden sign above the door that said "New Directions Roadhouse."<p>

"Weird name…" Kurt muttered, stepping around a hole in the porch. Blaine seemed unfazed though, and swung open the door, pushing Kurt in first.

And oh. Talk about appearances being deceiving.

While the outside made the building look ready to fall in at the slightest gust, inside, the floors were polished and the bar well-lit. A few pool tables and card tables were scattered among the dining tables, and the walls were covered with classic rock memorabilia. Movie and concert posters, mostly. An old jukebox belted out the Beatles' "Come Together," and about ten people were dispersed around the place in small groups. All of them glanced up at the newcomers, but relaxed at the sight of Blaine. More than a few lingered their eyes on Kurt, included a huge man with short brown hair built like a wall that was smoking a cigarette and playing pool with his equally large buddy, who in contrast had dark skin and no hair at all. His intense stare creeped Kurt out, but he stared back until the man looked away and muttered something to his friend. The friend sniggered.

But a blond waitress by the bar let out a loud shriek of joy and ran at Blaine before Kurt could say anything.

"Blaine!" she squealed happily throwing her arms around him. Kurt watched the reunion with amusement, though he still had no idea who the short, skinny girl was. Up close, she was gorgeous, though there were some lines around her eyes that suggested a harder life than a woman like her should have lived.

"Hey, Quinn!" Blaine lifted her up. She batted at his arms after a few seconds and he released her, grinning. "Been a while, hasn't it?"

"And it's entirely your fault." Quinn glared, brown eyes steely. "Months, Blaine! A call or text now and again would have been nice." She rolled her eyes at Blaine's fumbled apologies and excuses. "Hey, Mercedes! Mr. Schue! Blaine's back! And he brought a friend!" Quinn finally took notice of Kurt, who had stayed quiet and out of the way. Upon being singled out, he waved nervously.

From behind the bar, a curvy black woman about their age walked over. She was followed by a short man with curlier hair than Blaine and an ugly sweater vest. Mercedes (Kurt guessed) gave Blaine a hug before turning around and studying Kurt.

"Oh hell to the no, you did NOT pick up a boyfriend and not call me immediately, white boy?" She glared at Blaine, but gave Kurt a wink.

Time for the story. "I'm not Blaine's boyfriend. Just a friend." Kurt said reluctantly. Like anyone would believe him. And yep, he heard snorts from all over the bar. "But I must say, Mercedes, I love your scarf! Where on earth did you find a Gucci scarf out here?" He knew he said the right thing when Mercedes blushed and launched into a discussion about scarves and high fashion how Montana was just terrible for a woman of her fashion standards. It had been so long since Kurt had had any sort of "girl talk" that he found himself smitten with Mercedes from the start. Call him stereotypical, but Kurt missed his clothes.

Blaine finally interrupted their bonding to introduce the roadhouse's owner, William Schuester. "Most people just call me Mr. Schue. But Will is fine as well," he said warmly, shaking Kurt's hand. "I hope this little dump is somewhat enjoyable for you. It's just a little place for hunters to gather and relax without all the secrecy they'd have to deal with at other bars and taverns."

Kurt gaped. "Wait. You guys are all hunters?" He glanced back around the building. A few people waved or held up beers in his directions. They did look tough, actually. All of them had a melancholy aura, like they knew too much of the world, and there were more than a few pistols in visible holsters.

Mr. Schue just smiled. "Most of us. I never got into it. My father ran this place, and I just took it over when he died. I was never much for guns. Quinn and Mercedes joined me later when things got busier. But the customers," Mr. Schue gestured around the roadhouse. "The customers are usually hunters. They use this place to regroup, team up, and find jobs."

Blaine put his hands on Kurt's shoulders and guided him to a chair. "We're just taking a break from the road for a few hours. I thought we could find a job here and you can meet some more hunters." Blaine said. "Quinn," he called out over his shoulder. "Can we get some food and drinks here?"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Manners, Mr. Anderson!"

"Please?"

She pretended to think. "For you, no. But the cutie next to you, sure." She blew a kiss at Kurt as she sauntered into the kitchen. Mercedes caught Kurt's eyes and winked again.

This place was crazy, Kurt decided.

But had good food, Kurt conceded later after devouring a sandwich. He wasn't entirely certain what kind it was, other than the fact it had lettuce, tomatoes, some kind of meat and a delicious spread that might have been some form of spicy mayonnaise. Kurt ignored the calories as he finished off the crust. At least he had more manners than Blaine, who had crumbs all over his mouth and mayonnaise on his nose.

He was about to say something about Blaine's lack of table etiquette when a tall shadow fell over him and a large, meaty hand yanked him up by his shoulder. Kurt gasped in surprise and anger, and saw Blaine stand up threateningly.

"What's a little fairy like you doing in a place like this?" It was the big man from earlier. Sure enough, his buddy was grinning over his shoulder. "This is a place for real men." He growled.

Kurt raised an eyebrow glanced over at the bar where a tall woman with short blonde hair sat, tossing back a stiff drink. The man's face darkened and he looked ready to use his fists on Kurt's face. Instinctively, Kurt braced himself for the hit, but still stood tall.

He'd had a lot of practice while growing up in Lima.

"Lay off, Karofsky." Blaine snapped. He truly looked angry. Kurt tried to remember seeing that expression before. It was worse than the time in California. Blaine actually moved his hands near his waist, where Kurt knew for a fact a knife was hidden.

Karofsky smirked. "Thought you were into men, Anderson. What's this then?" he waved his arm towards Kurt while the friend howled. Blaine's face darkened dangerously.

Ok. Kurt had had enough. Fuck chivalry and manners, this piece of shit was going down. Also, his boots had steel toes. Hesitating for a second, Kurt kicked Karofsky's shins and kneed his groin in two fluid moments. Blaine was a good teacher.

Karofsky doubled over in pain, wheezing. His eyes said it all though. Kurt was fairly certain he'd just made an enemy for life.

"Don't touch me again." He said, looking down on Karofsky. The bar was silent, as if no one could quite believe Karofsky had just been beaten by a kid probably half his weight and several inches shorter. Only Blaine had a hand over his mouth as if to hide a smile.

Karofsky finally stood. "This isn't over, fag." he spat out, leaning close to Kurt's ear. A large hand shoved Kurt hard into the table before Karofsky stormed out with the other man close behind him.

Kurt watched them leave, breathing unsteadily. The word had hurt, yes, but he was so much more than three stupid letters. Years of bullying taught Kurt many lessons: picking your battles was one of them. "Leave it," he murmured to Blaine. The other hunter looked ready to personally skin Karofsky with a dull blade.

"He called you—" Blaine began heatedly.

"It's fine." Kurt shrugged, trying for nonchalance. He didn't want Blaine to notice how shaken he really was. "I'm used to it." All too true.

The words didn't satisfy Blaine, who just narrowed his eyes and frowned. Quinn huffed from the bar.

"That's the last straw." She glared at the door while she swiped the counter with a wet rag. "He better not be welcome back." She directed the last sentence to Mr. Schue, who frowned.

"No, he's not coming back. I don't need him treating customers like that." Mr. Schue said firmly.

Mercedes came out from the kitchen with two large slices of apple pie. "Boy, you just took down the biggest asshole west of the Mississippi." She scolded when Kurt protested. "Shut up and eat the pie. He's never coming back here, and let me just say that it's such a relief especially since he's been acting weirder lately. Right Quinn?" Quinn scowled from her place at another group's table and nodded grimly. "He kept trying to feel us up. It was weird." Mercedes shivered. "I tell you, that boy is bad news." Several hunters raised their glasses in the affirmative. Though a few others shot Kurt dark glances.

Kurt suddenly wanted to get the hell out of there. He began shoveling the pie into his mouth, barely swallowing. Blaine was watching him with concern, Kurt knew, but he really didn't care at the moment.

A hand came down on his shoulder. Although it was thinner than Karofsky's and not nearly as menacing, Kurt still jumped about a mile and nearly tipped his plate over. When he looked up, he was staring into the eyes of the older, short-haired blonde from the bar. She was wearing a bright red tracksuit for some reason, but still was one of the most intimidating people Kurt had ever met.

She appeared to be studying him. Kurt glanced at Blaine, who just shrugged. _Go with it,_ he mouthed. Well that was unhelpful.

"Porcelain." The woman barked. Kurt was utterly confused. "You're Porcelain. And Frodo—" Blaine waved to show he was listening. "You look out for him. Call me if the Cavemen tries anything." With a curt nod, she turned on her heel and marched out of the roadhouse without another word. Kurt stared after her.

"That was Sue Sylvester." Blaine explained. "She's one of the best hunters ever. You should be happy. She likes you."

Kurt felt a headache coming on. "She called me 'Porcelain.'"

"Better than 'Frodo.'" Blaine sighed.

True. "Touché."

Mr. Schue walked over carrying a manila folder. Kurt thought he saw a map poking out of one of the sides. He handed it to Blaine. "Quinn's been putting together this case. It's a little thin, but Karofsky is heading towards Washington State, and I think it would be better if you guys avoid each other for a little while. Yesterday, a man vanished on a hunting trip with his son and the son's story has the local cops very confused. It's not the first time someone's gone missing in that area."

"Jersey?" Blaine was scanning the folder. He turned away when Kurt tried to look. Jerk.

"Could be fun." Mr. Schue smiled at Kurt.

"Maybe we'll see Snooki." Blaine wriggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Hilarious." Kurt snatched the folder out of Blaine's hands. He flipped it open to the first page, which had a sketch of the strangest creature he had ever seen. "What the hell is this?" He held it up.

"Snooki." Blaine said with a straight face. He dodged Kurt's apple chunk, giggling madly.

"You have the maturity of a five-year-old." Kurt informed him. But he smiled so Blaine would know he was kidding. Mostly.

Later, while Kurt and Mercedes were deep in conversation about that winter's new styles—Kurt was predicting the long-overdue death of Ugg boots while Mercedes insisted they were here to stay—Kurt noticed Mr. Schue and Blaine talking off to the side. They both looked worried, and Blaine kept glancing at Kurt before answering. But when Kurt asked later, Blaine said it was nothing and changed the subject.

* * *

><p><em>-Ashpark, New Jersey-<em>

"It was the Jersey Devil, I'm tellin' you!"

Kurt and Blaine exchanged glances. They were currently dressed like state troopers (Kurt had insisted on the hat) and trying to question the thirteen-year-old boy who had been with his father until the older man disappeared. The boy was short with dark hair and wide eyes that insisted they listen to him. He crossed him arms and sulked back in the kitchen chair, texting madly on his phone.

Blaine tried a new approach. "Mrs. Sarino, can you think of any enemies your husband might have had? Anyone who would want to cause him harm?"

The slight brunette shook her head slowly. Blaine thought she was still in shock.

"Vinny went hunting all the time. He loved it. The woods were his home more than this house was." She waved her arm around vaguely. "But everyone loved him. Half the town came to him for deer meat in the winters. It's leaner than beef, you know."

Blaine nodded faintly, feeling a little queasy. His one encounter with venison left him doubled over the toilet for a full day. His father hadn't cooked the meat properly.

"He knew the woods so well. But I guess anyone can get lost at night right? He might turn up?" Sandra Sarino asked hopefully.

"It's possible." Kurt said with a strained smile.

The son rolled his eyes and snorted loudly. Missing father or not, this kid was getting on Blaine's nerves. He was still texting!

"Right, well I think we've got everything we need." Blaine stood up smiling warmly. "If you think of anything else, please call us." He shook Sandra's hand, handing her a business card with his cell number on it. Kurt waved as he followed Blaine out of the small house.

"The Jersey Devil?" Kurt said incredulously as soon as they were outside and out of earshot of the family. "We're going to hunt for the Jersey Devil? _The_ Jersey Devil?" He shook his head as he got into the car.

Blaine shrugged. "Maybe." He said, sliding into the driver's side.

"You know," Kurt began as Blaine began driving. "I knew someone at school that swore up and down he saw the Devil once. It ate his chickens." Blaine snorted. "It was apparently very traumatizing for him." Kurt said seriously, obviously fighting to keep a straight face. "Just seeing a live chicken makes him break down in tears now." He sighed dramatically.

"You are a horrible person. Stop teasing me."

"No way. It's too much fun."

* * *

><p>"Quinn did a really good job compiling this file."Blaine said later that night in a nameless bar in town. No really. It was actually nameless. The sign outside said "Bar." It was tiny, dirty, and Kurt was fairly certain he was getting cancer from the amount of smoke the locals kept belching out. The pool tables were jammed up next the dining tables, leaving almost no room for the players. Kurt refused to eat the grease-drenched burger Blaine ordered for him, instead glaring scathingly at Blaine and hissing that they would be stopping at a 7-11 on the way home for a day-old wrap.<p>

That, at least, would not be covered in who knew how many germs.

So Kurt was nursing a beer (He made the bartender give it to him unopened and Kurt wiped it down with a hand wipe before it touched his lips because he wasn't taking any chances) and shooting angry glares at Blaine for daring to bring him to this dump.

To be fair, the only other bar in Ashpark looked even more unappealing and Blaine was planning on hustling some money later (their hard funds were getting low), probably by using the pool tables and very drunk patrons. So he needed to create the illusion he was drinking even though he dumped the alcohol into a thermos every so often when no one was looking.

"I mean it," Blaine was saying. Kurt forced himself to listen. Blaine was going over the inch-thick file Mr. Schue had given them earlier. "She's included everything. The local legends; missing persons dating back to the 1800s; police reports; eyewitness descriptions; everything."

Kurt dodged an errant pool stick before answering, fixing its owner with a fierce glare. "We're still looking for a creature that had eluded hunters for nearly 270 years. How on earth are we going to find it? And sir," Kurt finally snapped, twisting around in his chair to glare at the skinny pool player. "If you hit me with that stick one more time, I will shove it up your ass. And don't think I can't."He delivered his threat with enough force that the young man just swallowed hard and stammered out an apology. Kurt turned back to find Blaine snickering.

"You're so adorable when you get pissy."

"Oh shut up."

Kurt was still scowling when Blaine began asking around the bar about local legends. They were now reporters doing a story on American stories. Shifting from persona to persona was second nature for Blaine, but Kurt still had trouble remembering who he was supposed to be to certain people. It was exhausting. He mused about how little he got to be Kurt Hummel from Lima, Ohio.

What was up with Blaine anyway? He was so strange; one minute happy and cheerful and the next, when he thought Kurt wasn't looking, nervous and troubled. The idiot was keeping something from hum, Kurt just knew it. Maybe it had something to do with when Mr. Schue pulled him aside…

Deep in thought, it took him a few moments to realize Blaine was waving at him to come over from the corner of the bar. Kurt sighed inwardly at the amount of smoke said corner housed. But he managed to drag himself to Blaine and the old man Blaine was with.

"This is Mr. Matthew Gorman." Blaine said. "This is my partner, Brad." _Brad?_ Blaine was going to get a stern talking to about the names he picked out for Kurt. "Brad, Mr. Gorman's very kindly offered to tell us the story about the Jersey Devil. You have the tape recorder right?" Blaine pulled out a notebook and a pencil at the same time though.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Gorman." Kurt smiled, giving the old man a handshake. He fished around in his jacket before pulling out an old tape recorder Blaine had given him earlier. Whether it actually worked, Kurt had no idea. Nevertheless he hit the record the button as he studied the old-timer in front of him.

Matthew Gorman looked to be in his eighties, with a large nose and white hair. He dressed exactly how Kurt would expect a hunter to dress—a real hunter of animals, that is—clad in an old plaid shirt and jeans and a faded baseball cap squashed on his head. He was holding a large pitcher of beer and Kurt wondered exactly how much he'd drank before Blaine found him.

"Yous are reporters then?" Gorman drawled, his words slightly slurred from the alcohol.

"Yes, sir, from _Weekly World News._" Blaine said easily. "Can you please tell us about the Jersey devil?" He adopted the air of a reporter so easily, his pencil hovering over the notebook and an intense look of interest on his face.

Gorman eyed the two boys in front of him suspiciously. "Well I supposed. Not many around here listen to me anymore."

"That's 'cause you're a nutjob, fossil!" a drunk patron shouted from the other side of the bar.

"Why don't you shut yer piehole, Dirty Frank! Or I'll tell the missus all about yer nightly meetin's with Cormick's oldest girl?" Gorman yelled right back. Frank ducked his head amid all the jeers but stayed quiet. Gorman glared at Frank before turning back to Blaine and Kurt.

"Right. The Devil. Well, the legend varies a little depending on which county you go to. But most of the stories have the same basic details." Gorman paused for a long sip of beer. Kurt briefly considered telling the old man he had foam in his beard but decided against it. "In the early 1700s, usually around the 1730s or so, there was a family that lived in New Jersey.

"Now, the stories vary on whether the family was called Leeds or the area was called Leeds but that's not important. What is important is that one dark and stormy night, Mother Leeds gave birth to her thirteenth child."

Kurt marveled at how well Gorman told the story. The country twang was almost gone as the old man got into the tale, repeating words he'd heard a thousand times before. Kurt was completely hooked. Blaine wasn't even pretending to take notes.

"Mother Leeds had always frightened the villagers she lived among. She had an aura of evil, the townspeople said. They avoided speaking to her and her brood whenever possible. Most at that time had lost at least one child to childbirth or fever, but not Mother Leeds. All twelve of her children were healthy and strong and a bit cruel." Gorman took another swig, shuddering. "In those times, thirteen was an unlucky number, a number associated with the devil. Many suspected Mother Leeds to have a relationship with the devil, but they dared not investigate the nature. So when Mother Leeds was pregnant with a thirteenth child, the whispers were rampant.

"Who was the father? For she lived alone with her children. Why was she having another baby, a _thirteenth_ baby?

"The townspeople were worried but curious. On the day Mother Leeds went into labor, the town's midwife bravely entered, ready to help deliver the baby and ignoring the rumors. Right before the baby was born, Mother Leeds cried out 'Let it be the devil!' She did not survive the birth, but the child did.

"If you could call it a child. The creature was the size of a baby, but had the body of horse and the wings of a bat. The creature shrieked three times before flying off into the forest.

"Since that night, livestock has gone missing every so often. Occasionally, a man will vanish into the trees, never to be found again. Never enough to spark a panic. Just enough to survive. Many hunting parties and searches have been done, but somehow, the Jersey Devil has eluded capture for nearly 270 years. My grandfather was a part of the searches back in the early 1900s. But aside from a few sightings, the Jersey Devil haunts the forests of New Jersey to this day."

When Gorman stopped, evidently finished, Kurt stole a glance at Blaine. He appeared deep in thought.

"What were the searchers planning to do when they found it?" Blaine asked. Well that was a strange question. A logical one, Kurt thought, but Gorman raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Well, they thought it was the devil. So did they have a plan for killing it when they caught it?" Blaine stammered, blushing slightly.

Gorman considered the question, swirling his beer around in the mug. "Fire." He finally said. "They were going to burn it."

* * *

><p>Their motel (<em>The Brown-Eyed Devil<em>, and Blaine seriously wondered about the names of the places he stayed in; they were invariably bizarre) was a nice one. Kurt hadn't found a single cockroach and the shower didn't even smell this time. Blaine was infinitely thankful for that kind mercy, especially since Kurt was still angry about the bar. Not even their new wad of twenties had placated him. And Blaine worked _hard_ for it too. Playing pool with drunk hicks while your best friend glared daggers into your back was unsettling. Blaine sadly sorted the money, dividing it into a pile to carry around and a pile to keep in the Mustang. He hoped the shower would mellow Kurt out some, because they were going into the woods in the morning. And Blaine had a feeling Kurt would not enjoy hiking through the trees with spiders and ants.

He dragged his "clean clothes" duffel bag out, rooting through it to find a plain white t-shirt. Blaine yanked off his clothes, pulling on the shirt while his thoughts turned to Will Schuester's words from the roadhouse.

"_Have you heard anything about my parents?"_

_Mr. Schue looked pained before he finally answered. "No," the roadhouse owner finally admitted. "Nothing. No one has heard from them. Do you have any idea why…?" he trailed off, looking at Blaine with worry._

_Blaine shook his head. "No. No, they just…left. They haven't called me and Dad's phone just goes to voicemail when I try to call them. Just tell me if you hear anything?"_

"_Absolutely." Mr. Schue hesitated for a second. "Blaine, running this place, we hear a lot of rumors."_

"_Rumors?"_

_He nodded. "'A storm is coming,'" he quoted. "A lot of hunters are whispering about it. There are more demonic possessions and supernatural attacks than ever before. Something is brewing. I don't think anyone knows yet, but just be careful. Alright?" Mr. Schue nodded at Kurt. Blaine turned to study the slim man with bright blue eyes currently invested in a heated discussion with Mercedes. He was gesturing wildly, trying to make a point. Blaine felt a faint smile tugging, but it faded at Mr. Schue's look. "Watch out for yourself. And the newbie. It's never a good time to join these ranks, but it's looking to be extremely dangerous right now though._

"_A storm is coming, Blaine. Remember that."_

_Blaine nodded, feeling a sense of foreboding. Mr. Schue was normally oblivious to everything; for him to notice those whispers meant they were probably true. He felt sick. Yet another danger he was putting Kurt in. Blaine watched Kurt laugh at something Mercedes said, watched his eyes scrunch up in mirth as he giggled into his hand._

_He wouldn't tell Kurt about Mr. Schue's warning. Not yet. No need to kill that innocence yet._

"Blaine?"

He jumped at the sudden voice, nearly hitting Kurt with his shoulder. "Jesus, Kurt!" Blaine laughed shakily, hoping Kurt wouldn't notice how worried he really was.

No such luck. "You ok? You were just sitting there, staring at my bed." Kurt sat down next to Blaine, tentatively nudging Blaine's shoulder with his own. His hair was still wet from the shower and Blaine had a sudden desire to push back the few strands that hung over Kurt's forehead, but kept his hands at his sides. Kurt always seemed to know when Blaine was hiding something, and Blaine was irrationally annoyed. But it was Kurt.

"I'm fine. Just…tired." Blaine lied easily. "Come on." He gently pushed Kurt towards the other bed. "Get some sleep. We're going to be walking a lot tomorrow."

Kurt, surprisingly didn't protest, just stood up and looked at Blaine. Kurt was so easy to read. _You're lying to me and I don't know why,_ his look said. _I'm worried about you. This isn't over._

Without a word though, Kurt slid into his own bed, waited for Blaine to get under his covers, then reached over and turned off the lamp on the table between then. The room went dark, except for the faint blue light from the motel sign drifting in through the window curtains. Blaine could just see Kurt's outline. He lay still, listening to the faint breaths from the other bed.

God, Blaine hoped he could keep Kurt safe.

"You don't have to protect me," the blanket-covered lump said. "I'm not actually made of porcelain, you know. I can defend myself."

How the hell did Kurt manage to do that? To guess at what Blaine was thinking?

"I know." Blaine whispered.

"Whatever it is, I can help." _No, you can't._ "You don't have to do everything by yourself." _Yes, I do._

"Go to sleep, Kurt." Blaine said aloud. He heard Kurt let out an annoyed huff and the blankets rustle as Kurt turned away from him. Kurt wouldn't let up, Blaine knew, but maybe he could distract the guy with the hunt. He could deal with the fallout later.

* * *

><p>Kurt tripped on yet another root, but managed to catch himself just before completely falling on his face into the dirt. The forest hated him. Kurt was sure of it.<p>

He glared at the stoic trees, imagining the apple orchard in _The Wizard of Oz_ that threw fruit at poor Dorothy and her friends. They remained silent and unmoving.

Blaine was walking ahead of him, trying to follow the directions they had gotten from the Sarino's the day before to where the father had last been seen. He frowned at the piece of paper, then squinted at the unchanging scenery.

Honestly, if Kurt didn't know any better he'd think Blaine was lost.

"Are we lost?"

"No," Blaine denied hotly.

"Oh my god, we are." Kurt moaned, earning himself an elbow from Blaine.

"We aren't lost." Blaine insisted. "It's right here." He pointed at a clump of bushes. "Do they look like Mount Rushmore to you?"

Kurt wondered if Blaine was insane. He rolled his eyes, stalking over to the bushes while Blaine tried to muse through the directions again. The bushes actually did kind of resemble the famous mountain. Sort of. From certain angles, anyway. Kurt stepped carefully, trying to avoid the muddiest parts of the forest floor. God, but this sucked.

_Would you go back to school? To New York?_ a voice whispered in Kurt's mind.

No. He could handle this. Just as he had the sewers and the motel rooms. Kurt was a Hummel, and Hummels did not run away. Ever.

Stepping to the side of a particularly large puddle, Kurt noticed a deep track in the mud. It was a horseshoe, but it was small. Smaller than the horses in Central Park, anyway. Kurt studied the print for a moment, thinking. He looked up and peered at the trees ahead. Something dark moved among the trunks.

Kurt jumped up, nearly slipping on the mud and falling on his ass. Which would have been tragic, as Kurt was wearing Ralph Lauren jeans. Old habits die hard and all. "Blaine!" he hissed at the hunter, who was still staring at the map like it held the answers to life itself. "Oh for—Blaine!" he motioned for Blaine to get his ass over to the bushes Kurt was crouched behind.

"In the trees," Kurt whispered into Blaine's ear. Blaine gave him an odd look, but watched the trees. There was a flash of movement—was that a wing?—but it faded almost instantly. Kurt gripped Blaine's arm. It was more for balance than anything, but Blaine didn't seem to mind. They crouched patiently.

A few minutes later, the branches rustled and the Jersey Devil flew down from the trees' limbs into the small clearing in front of Kurt and Blaine.

The descriptions were accurate, Kurt saw. It basically was a horse with fangs, wings, and devil's tail. Its back legs, though, were longer than the front and the creature walked on them rather than on all fours. Standing, the Jersey Devil was around five feet tall. It shook out its wings before stretching and yawning, letting out small sounds of pleasure.

The scene was almost pleasant, if not for the blood-stained maw and fangs.

And the cold glittering of the coal-black eyes sent shivers down Kurt's spines and made him think about darkness and the slimy creatures that lived there.

Blaine slowly raised his hand, where he held a can of hairspray. With the other, he fished out an old lighter. Kurt let go of his arm as Blaine crept around the bushes, holding the makeshift flamethrower in front of him. Before he could flick the lighter open, though, voices echoed through the forest.

"It's this way!"

"Not it's not, stupid! We just came from there!"

"Guys are you sure this is a good idea?"

Three voices, Two boys and a girl; young by the sound of it. Kurt groaned inwardly when he recognized one of the boy's. He was going to murder Tommy Sarino. The creature was gone the instant those stupid kids opened their mouths. Kurt growled and stood, marching towards the voices. Blaine followed.

Kurt stopped suddenly, crossing his arms against his chest and glowering at three kids between the tress. The kids hadn't stopped arguing and the two boys were too focused on proving the other wrong to look where they were going.

The girl saw them, though, and grabbed her friends.

"Ow, Em, what the…oh." Tommy caught sight of Kurt's murderous glare and straightened up. "Hi, Officers!" he said too brightly. His friend stood silently behind him, eyes wide. Kurt just stood there. "Um, this is Emily, my girlfriend," Tommy gestured to the small blonde-haired girl. She looked nervous. "And that's Sean." The buzz-cut lanky kid waved.

"You three are idiots." Kurt said flatly

Blaine glanced at his friend sideways as if questioning the yelling. Kurt ignored him in favor of ripping the children a new one for letting the creature get away.

Tommy tried to recover. "We had to come out here because no one would believe me! The Jersey Devil took my dad and I'm going to get him back. By myself if I have to!" He stuck out his chin stubbornly.

Huh. Maybe Kurt's initial assessment of the kid being an asshole was inaccurate. Dammit, now he felt guilty for scaring the kids. Next to him, Blaine sighed.

"Coming into the woods so soon after your father goes missing was not smart." He said gently. Sean and Emily kicked at the ground and avoided Blaine's eye. "We know what we're doing. I think you three should go home and let my partner and I handle this."

Tommy guiltily dropped his eyes. _Oh sweet Lord, _thought Kurt, dismayed when he realized what that look was for. His suspicions were confirmed in the next minute.

"We're, um, kinda lost," Tommy admitted, nervously giggling.

Blaine blinked. "What do you mean 'kinda lost'?" he asked tightly. Blaine was annoyed that they would have to get the kids home before they could look for the Jersey Devil, Kurt knew. Which meant a lost day of hunting. And every day meant the monster could get even farther away. It had eluded capture for more than two hundred years, if they lost it now, they might never find it again. And in the meantime, more people might die.

God, but this job was stressful at times.

Also, Kurt had no idea where they were either so he hoped like hell Blaine did. But Blaine was looking at him helplessly. Oh. Fuck.

"You're shitting me." Kurt glared at Blaine, not even caring about cursing in front of the kids. "I told you we were lost earlier. I told you. And now we have three charges." Blaine didn't offer a word in his defense; just let Kurt mutter curses under his breath. The three children stood around awkwardly until Sean decided to interrupt.

"Hey, why're you holding hairspray anyway?" he demanded.

Kurt and Blaine looked at him for a moment before locking eyes. Kurt honestly could not believe how quickly the day had gone to shit. Well, gotten shittier. Because any day that began with Kurt Hummel hiking through a forest was not a good day anyway.

"You don't look like state troopers…" Tommy said, narrowing his eyes.

"Where's your uniforms? Are policemen allowed to wear pants that tight?" the girl spoke for the first time. Kurt blushed deeply.

And Blaine was snickering. Kurt stared at him incredulously. Kurt had just been embarrassed by a thirteen-year-old and Blaine was laughing. Kurt crossed his arms, eyes flashing dangerously.

It had the desired effect. Blaine stopped smiling and swallowed nervously. "You're right, we aren't law enforcement." Blaine said brightly, focusing on the kids and not pissed-off Kurt. "We're hunters. We hunt monsters and ghosts."

The kids stared at him. Blaine tried to look trustworthy and solemn.

Sean was not convinced. "No way. Even if monsters exist, which they don't—" Tommy shot an angry look at his friend. "_He_ hunts monsters?" Sean raised his eyebrows at Kurt. God for such a little thing, he had attitude. Kurt could just feel his bitch claws coming out. "He looks like a mud stain would give him fits!"

"I'll have you know, you snot-nosed little—" Kurt began heatedly. Blaine put his hand on his arm though and motion for Kurt to calm down.

"Kurt has actually saved my life before." Blaine said, and what? Kurt distinctly remembered it being the other way around multiple times, but Blaine refused to catch his eye. Tonight was going to be fun. If they made it out alive.

Tommy studied Blaine. "So you believe me? About the Devil taking Dad?" He seemed almost hopeful.

"Yeah. We believe you." Blaine smiled. Sean scoffed behind Tommy, but Emily slipped her hand in his.

_Young love,_ Kurt thought.

"Come on. Let's get you all home." Blaine said. "And no, we're not lost, Kurt. Um, let's go that direction." He started off into the trees, the kids following reluctantly. Kurt sighed, but gave in.

* * *

><p>An hour later, Blaine was starting to worry.<p>

His direction was _not_ right, and he could feel Kurt's anger pouring out in waves. He was scary when mad. Also, the three kids looked tired and Sean was beginning to complain. Loudly. About how cold it was, how it was getting dark, and how much of an idiot Blaine was for getting them even more lost. Blaine was ready to crack and punch the little brat when Sean's whining was suddenly cut off. Blaine turned around to find Sean face down in the mud.

"Whoops, my bad," Kurt smiled innocently, winking at Blaine and walking calmly around the muddied figure.

Kurt really confused him sometimes.

Up ahead, Emily called out. "Guys! There's a house over here!" She beckoned them over frantically.

She was right. In a large clearing lay a small, dilapidated wooden house. It looked to be a few hundred years old, with half the roof collapsed and the sides covered in ivy. The boards were weather-beaten and rotted. Kurt made to step out from behind the bushes, but Blaine held him back, thinking.

Not a moment too soon, actually. From the hole in the roof, a loud cry echoed. A dark shaped flew out, and for an instant, against the darkening sky, Blaine saw the outline of huge bat wings and a long, forked tail.

"We found it," Kurt muttered in his ear. Blaine nodded, trying to think of a plan.

Too late he saw Tommy run to the house. His friends followed. Blaine cursed to himself and sighed. "He's worse than you." Blaine said to Kurt.

Inside, the house was filled with the remnants of decades; maybe centuries. Abandoned typewriters lay haphazardly across the room; a broken cradle sat on a threadbare couch; wooden chairs had been reduced to kindling with age; newspapers stacked several feet high. Kurt pulled one out from the bottom, showing Blaine the date: August 17th, 1826.

"It must have taken over the house when the original owner died. Or just killed the owner." Blaine said. It certainly smelled like it. The whole house reeked of decay and must.

Tommy wasn't concerned with understanding the creature. He just wanted his dad back, and so crashed through the house with little thought to his surroundings. He found the basement door and bounded down the rickety steps. Emily followed him, with Sean tagging along reluctantly.

"You go with them," Kurt said. "I'll check this floor first." Blaine hesitated, but it was the only course of action. He didn't want to be trapped in the basement if there was something else here. Too many times had he been caught in an ambush. Letting Kurt go without a weapon was stupid though, so he handed over the small handgun he had been hiding in his waistband. Kurt raised an eyebrow, but took it.

"Just don't shoot me," Blaine said, eying the gun warily.

"I'm better now!" Kurt glared, affronted. "Go find the kids before they explode the place or something."

Blaine, however, could tell Kurt was glad he was being trusted with a gun. He just smiled and headed down the stairs, trying to avoid the rotted sections.

Tommy had found his dad. Blaine's stomach dropped at the sight of all the blood, but Tommy was cradling his father's head and the man was moving. Slowly, but he looked alive at least. The other two children stood off to the side.

"He can't move," Tommy said when Blaine crouched down to feel Vincent's pulse. It was faint, but there. "He's bleeding from his shoulder or neck; I can't tell where."

"I need something to stop the bleeding." Blaine said. His leather jacket would be useless, and he looked around the basement, hoping for some kind of cloth. No such luck. On the other hand, the basement had more junk and cans of ancient food. One wall had rusty tools that must have been there for the past hundred years. Only half of the saw was still hanging.

Tommy pulled off his sweatshirt and thrust it at Blaine. Blaine wiped the blood away as best he could, revealing two large puncture marks in Vincent's shoulder that still oozed. Vincent groaned softly, but otherwise was quiet. Blaine poked at the wound again, and a little bit of green dribbled out with the red. He covered the wound with the sweatshirt and tied the sleeves together to hold the fabric in place.

"Hey, Blaine?" Kurt called from the stairs. "There's nothing upstairs and the second floor is completely blocked off so—" He stopped talking when he caught sight of Vincent. "Oh my God, is he still alive?"

"Yeah, barely. C'mere, help me get him outside. Remember the fangs on the picture we saw?" Blaine said, hoisting Vincent upright and putting the man's arm around his shoulder. Kurt got the other arm, and they supported the lifeless body to the stairs. "I think it feeds on blood. And it must poison its victims. He wasn't tied down or anything."

"The perfect snackfood," Kurt grunted.

After a short struggle, they finally got Vincent upstairs and hidden in one of the many rooms. Tommy stayed by his father's side, flanked by his friends. Vincent breathed shallowly on the mattress that had more springs than fabric.

Blaine drew Kurt aside. "We have to stop that thing now."

"I'm not arguing." Kurt shrugged. He caught sight of Blaine's expression. "Why are you smiling like that?"

"I've got a plan."

* * *

><p>"This is the worst plan ever."<p>

"No it's not, Kurt. You'll be fine. I'll be right here the whole time."

"Why do I have to be bait? You be bait."

"I have better aim than you. And I've used a flamethrower before and you haven't. And we can't ask any of the kids to do this because that would be immoral."

Kurt glared at Blaine from his place on the floor of the basement. "If I die, I swear I'll haunt your ass."

Blaine tried not to chuckle. "I don't doubt that for a second."

They were silent. Blaine picked at the underneath of the wooden stairs. To be truthful, his hiding spot kind of sucked, but it offered the easiest access to Kurt if something went wrong and was reasonably out of sight.

As long as the creature didn't look down.

"Blaine, there are too many 'ifs' in this plan." Kurt fiddled with the handgun in his lap. "We're banking on it coming straight down here and not wandering the rest of the house." _Where the kids and an injured man are hiding_ went unsaid.

It wasn't a great plan. But it was all they had. And Blaine had to hope the creature would be hungry after a long night of terrorizing the surrounding counties. "It'll work." he said more confidently than he felt. He double checked the hairspray, making sure that it was still spraying. He had an extra sitting at his feet. The lighter produced a steady flame. The netting hidden on the ceiling in front of the steps hadn't moved, and the end was within easy distance for Kurt to reach. They'd found the net in one of the many boxes and wooden cabinets strewn around the room. The basement appeared as messy and abandoned as the rest of the house.

The plan had to work. It just had to.

"Next time, you get to be bait." Kurt grumbled. "And I call radio control for the next hundred miles."

"No Gaga. Or Britney."

"This isn't a negotiation, Blaine!"

A muffled thump came from upstairs. Blaine saw Kurt pale.

"Just relax. I won't let anything happen to you." Blaine said quietly. Kurt rolled his eyes, but still looked scared.

Steps echoed above them. They were heavier than footsteps, but weren't quite the clop-clop of horseshoes. Kurt followed the progress with his eyes, his knees drawn up tight and the gun in one hand. The other was behind him, fingering the rope that would release the net.

Blaine flipped the lighter open as the basement door swung open. He held his breath, trying not to tip off the creature to the ambush. The stairs creaked and rained fine dust on his face with each step the Devil took, and oh god NO he did NOT have to sneeze.

_Oh my God walked faster!_ he silently pleaded, fighting the sneeze. He almost cried in relief when the creature stopped at the bottom of the stairs. It froze when it caught sight of Kurt in the place of its previous meal.

Kurt stared at the Jersey Devil. It stood on all four legs, its wings folded against it body and tail flickering, eyes narrowed in anger. A growl rose in its throat and it bared its teeth.

"NOW KURT!"

At Blaine's command, Kurt yanked his rope and released the net. He backed away, watching the monster howl and tear at the net, its wings tangled and useless. Blaine nearly tripped over a box, but managed to straighten up in time to see the creature run at Kurt. Kurt fired off two shots reflexively, hitting the creature in the body and neck.

It didn't slow down. Instead, the Devil screeched horribly, and headbutted Kurt in the stomach. Gasping in shock, Kurt kicked the thing in the face. He readied the gun again.

Blaine held the lighter and hairspray ready, but he was afraid the flame would engulf Kurt too. He needed Kurt to move but the creature was right in front of him and still fighting the netting.

A distraction is what he needed.

From upstairs, there was a loud thump and then a cry of pain, followed by yelling. Oh, Blaine was going to murder those kids. But the Devil was looking up at the wooden ceiling and Kurt had scooted away…

Blaine flicked the lighter, willing it to catch the flame. "Oh, come on, you bastard!" he growled at it. Finally, _finally_ it lit and with a cry of triumph he held the can behind the flame and pressed down.

A roar of fire engulfed the beast's head, turning blue when it hit the creature's flesh. Blaine tried to hit every inch of the thrashing creature. It was reduced to a blue fireball in second, still screaming. He stopped spraying; figuring to save some ammo in case this wasn't enough.

With a long cry of pain, the creature collapsed.

It was over. Two-hundred and seventy plus years of terror and death throughout New Jersey and south-eastern Pennsylvania was over. Kurt stood at his side breathing heavily.

"You ok?" Blaine looked at Kurt's chest where he was rubbing painfully.

"Fine." Kurt replied breathlessly, still watching the creature burn in blue flames. His eyes widened. "Oh shit. Blaine." He tugged on Blaine's shoulder. "Blaine. Blaine. Blaine."

Blaine saw it. The fire on the creature's corpse was no longer contained to the creature's corpse. It jumped to one of the wooden boxes, engulfing the dried wood in seconds. More boxes followed. "Move." Blaine pushed Kurt towards the stairs. "Faster, Kurt!"

Kurt decided not to waste any more breath by snapping at Blaine, but he did shoot him a scathing look. They bolted up the stairs.

Sean was clutching a bloodied nose and the dresser was knocked over when Kurt and Blaine found the room with the kids and Vincent. He looked miserable.

"He tried to open the top drawer and it fell on him," Emily said by way of explanation. So that was the thump. Tommy was sitting with his father, who was still mostly unconscious.

"Right, well, we gotta go." Blaine said hurriedly. He and Kurt dragged Tommy's father outside, narrowly avoiding an explosion of flames from the basement door. Thankfully, most of the wood was still fairly dry so there was minimal smoke.

Once a safe distance into the woods, Blaine carefully lowered Vincent, muscles screaming. He collapsed to the cool ground. Kurt fell next to him, face grimy with soot. They watched the house slowly burn, the smoke trailing into the darkened sky.

"Two hundred miles." Kurt said.

"Deal." Blaine laughed. God, but it was good to be alive.

* * *

><p>Their possessions mostly packed and shoved into several duffel bags or in the Mustang, Kurt flopped backwards onto the bed. While most of this trip sucked, the beds were nice.<p>

And they did manage to stop a monster that had been killing for over two hundred and seventy years. And a young boy got to keep his father for many more years. Kurt smiled faintly at that thought.

Sure, there was the whole almost-starting-a-forest-fire incident, but the firefighters got it put out in time. That's what matters, right?

He closed his eyes.

"Kurt! Ready to go?" Kurt's eyes flew open when Blaine's hoagie smacked his stomach.

"You could always hand my sandwich to me like a normal human being." Kurt said, sitting up and making room for Blaine.

"Too much fun surprising you." Blaine grinned. He took a huge bite of his own hoagie, spilling lettuce and onions all over his lap. Sometimes, Blaine was just such a _guy_.

Kurt rolled his eyes and unwrapped his own- a turkey hoagie with a little mayo (guilty pleasure). It wasn't bad, actually. The bread was delicious. He took smaller bites than Blaine, who scoffed.

Their banter, however, was cut short by the tones of David Bowie's "Rebel Rebel" coming from Blaine's pocket. Still chewing, Blaine answered one handed.

"Hello?" He put the phone between his shoulder and ear so he could throw an onion slice at Kurt. Not to be out done, Kurt hit him in the ear with a tomato piece. The fun ended when Blaine's face suddenly went pale. "Dad?"

_Dad?_ Kurt had never seen Blaine looked so angry, scared, and betrayed at once. It was a weird mix, considering Blaine was usually so happy. Kurt watched his friend carefully, slowly eating the hoagie so he looked busy.

"Dad, where are you? Are you and mom ok?" Blaine suddenly straightened up and his voice lost its worried tone. "Yes sir." He said tonelessly.

Ok, now Kurt was worried. Blaine's parents had left him months ago, why were they calling now? And why was Blaine suddenly acting like a robot?

"Yes sir. Um," Blaine began looking around the room and in his pockets. "Hey, Kurt, do you have a pen and paper or something?" Kurt got the requested supplies out of the dresser drawer and handed them to Blaine wordlessly. "Thanks." Blaine wrote quickly, listing names and addresses and only pausing to ask about spelling.

Kurt watched the whole process, more than a little unsettled. Blaine's father sounded scary, and he hadn't even met the man yet. He wondered why Blaine was listening to the man who had left him several months ago. Hell, he wondered where the fuck his best friend had gone, because Blaine suddenly had a "soldier" attitude and Kurt didn't like it.

"I got it all." Blaine scanned the list. "Dad? When are you—" He stopped talking, listening to the man on the other end. "Yes sir." He said quietly. Blaine hung up a few seconds later.

After a minute of Blaine staring at the floor, Kurt decided to jump in. "Are they alright?" he asked. It seemed a harmless enough question.

Blaine took a deep breath before answering. "Yeah. They're fine. Alive." Blaine threw his phone at the other bed. "Bastard." He spat out bitterly, glaring at the paper he'd written on. "I'm his son, right?" Blaine stood up and began pacing angrily. Kurt decided it would be best to just let Blaine get this off his chest. "You know, you'd think, as his son, I'd be thought about every once in a while right? A phone call here, a text there—just something to let me know they aren't dead in a ditch somewhere in the boondocks! And then when the bastard finally calls—nothing. Not a 'Hey Blaine, hope you're doing well,' 'Hope you haven't been horribly maimed or anything yet!' No. Just 'Blaine, shut up and take down these names.' 'Blaine, go to this town right now.' 'Blaine, go risk your life for strangers, but don't ask questions or anything because I am your father and you will obey me like the stupid fucking dog you are!'"

Kurt jumped when Blaine ended that last sentence with a swift kick to one of the duffel bags.

"I mean," Blaine slumped back down next to Kurt. "Your dad cared about you, right? Like, he wanted you to be happy and healthy?" he leaned on Kurt's shoulder sadly.

"My dad wasn't in the same situation as your family." Kurt said diplomatically. Privately, he thought Blaine's father was an asshole but that was a comment that was going to be reserved for another time.

Blaine shook his head. "No, he was like that before he started hunting." He sighed.

For once, Kurt had nothing to say. Mr. Anderson sounded like an awful father, and his mother seemed just as bad. He let Blaine use his shoulder as a headrest for a few minutes. Mostly to make Blaine feel better, but Kurt would be lying if he said he minded…

"Ok, Blaine, that's enough self pity for you." Kurt poked his side and pushed Blaine off. "Eat your lunch and let's go. I'm driving. No buts," Kurt snagged Blaine's keys from his pockets and smiled triumphantly, standing up and out of reach.

Blaine sulked but dutifully finished the hoagie in three bites.

With all the bags finally in the Mustang and the room key returned, Blaine stood at the passenger door looking lost.

"I can drive you know," He shifted awkwardly, like he was uncomfortable.

"No, Blaine, I want to drive." Kurt smiled from the driver's side. "Also, remember I get the radio for the next two hundred miles.

Blaine groaned as he heard his beloved speakers begin blaring "Bad Romance." It was going to be a long car ride. Hopefully Kurt would take mercy on his ears a few miles in.

Kurt winked as if to say _No chance in hell_.

But he was with a friend. Someone who cared about him. Blaine could handle some Gaga if it kept Kurt happy.

But if Kurt thought he was tainting the Mustang with Miley Cyrus, Blaine was going to have a few choice words.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note- Songs: Ramblin' Man by The Allman Brothers Band, American Woman by The Guess Who<strong>

**Yeah, I really apologize. I had a good idea in the beginning, but then it…kind of got away from me. I can't even explain it. So there's really no excuse for how crappy/short this was. I promise the next episode will be better. Like, really. I actually have inspiration, guys!**

**Oh and also I have actually done research for this fic. Do you understand? RESEARCH. Hahaha. So parts of the legends and such are true, and some of it I just decided 'fuck it' and did whatever I wanted. Thank God for Google. Maybe back at school I can use their crazy amount of books and find some new creatures because seriously? It's really hard to find original monsters and such because I'm trying really hard not to recycle plotlines from Supernatural. Because that would be tacky.**

**As for the Roadhouse...that will definitely come back one day. As will Karofsky. His buddy is Azimio, just fyi. I think I've figured out where I want everyone from the show to fit in but Rachel and Finn. Oh and someone asked about Jesse making a return? Possibly. I'm thinking about it. I do love him even if he's an ass.**

**I also have to put out a disclaimer- I am from Southeastern Pennsylvania. So when I say "hoagie," most of the rest of world called them "subs." But for me, they will always be hoagies, and in the region Kurt and Blaine are in, they'd be called hoagies by the locals too. So forgive me for my Philly pride. =]**

**If anyone is looking for more Klaine fics, scarvesandcoffee (dot) net is a wonderful collection that was just started. I haven't uploaded this to it yet, but I might. In the meantime, go enjoy lots of Klaine love! There are some gems in there (Go Your Own Way comes to mind) for you to enjoy while I start the next episode!**

**For the next episode- I go back to college Sunday and start classes Monday and I have 17.5 credits plus a job. So I will try my hardest to keep updating regularly, but I can't promise it won't take me 2-3 weeks per chapter. **


	5. Mirror, Mirror, On The Wall

**A/N: GUYS. This is a treat for you. A new chapter in exactly one week! Be happy!**

**But, I start classes in um...2 hours. And I have a job. And I'm involved with a club on campus. SO again, I will do my best to update every two weeks, but no promises. I'm sorry.**

**This clocks in at 13.7k. See what happens when I actually like the plot I came up with? I hope this makes up for the last chapter...**

**Alright so this has over 1000 hits. Holy. Shit. Is someone whoring me out or something? Hahaha! No but seriously, thank you all for reading and leaving me feedback and comments (someone said they reread this? Like really? I love you!), I get ridiculously happy when FF sends me alerts about favorites or trackings or reviews or whatever. So thank you again!**

**(I don't own Glee. Or Supernatural, unfortunately.)**

**More stuff at the end because I talk a lot...**

* * *

><p>-<em>Bellevue, Oklahoma, 3 days ago-<em>

Diana Corbett glanced in the mirror one last time. A pretty girl with long blonde hair and green eyes peered back innocently. She touched up her lipstick, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves.

"You can do this," she told her reflection. "It's just one date. And you know Josh already likes you. _He_ asked _you_ out." She smoothed down her hair, willing it to look perfect. This was the first date she's had in, like, _forever._ And as a twenty-one year old college girl, that was just unacceptable. The doorbell rang.

Oh God, he was here. Diana looked at the mirror and smiled, trying to portray confidence. It kind of worked. She blew a kiss to her reflection. "Wish me luck!" she giggled, bouncing out the bathroom.

Her reflection didn't follow right away. It watched her leave with an expression of jealously.

The date was going so well, Diana couldn't believe it. He'd taken her to an expensive restaurant and even pulled out the chair for her. Josh was sweet, funny, and gorgeous, plus he seemed to really like her. At least, he hadn't laughed when she let slip over dinner that she had a guilty pleasure for watching _Pretty Little Liars_, just agreed and excitedly began outlining why he thought Jason killed Allison.

He and his beautiful brown hair and amazing dark eyes were perfect.

Diana was pretty certain she was in love by the time the food came. She excused herself to the bathroom just before dessert to collect herself. She didn't want to look like an idiot, right?

The bathroom was huge and empty. Over the gold-rimmed sinks (it was a _really_ expensive restaurant), a mirror took up the entire wall. Diana flounced over, grinning at herself.

"This could work." She pushed back a stray hair. "I think he's the one!" Then, deciding she really needed to use the toilet before going back out to face her dream man, she turned on her heel and went into one of the stalls.

Diana's reflection watched the door close calmly. It took a quick look around to check that the room was still deserted, then smiled satisfactorily. With perfect, tanned hands, it gripped the top of the counter and hoisted itself up, sitting of the counter. Carefully, making sure the silver dress did not get snagged on the faucets, it climbed through the mirror and into the bathroom. It patted its hair back and smoothed the dressed. "My turn," it said in Diana's voice. It took one last look at Diana's stall, where she was happily humming, unaware of her reflection's escapades.

The reflection smirked and walked out of the room and back into Josh's warm arms.

* * *

><p>Life sucked. Diana sighed, shoving her key into her apartment's keyhole roughly, fighting back the tears that had been threatening ever since she walked out of the bathroom at the restaurant and finding their table empty. It wasn't fair. Josh had seemed like such a nice guy, you know? But he left her stranded alone with no car. She had to asked the maître d' to call a cab for her while she stood outside, burning with shame.<p>

What an asshole. Stringing her along like that and then dumping her. Weirdly enough, though, he'd paid the bill, so there was that. Sighing at the eccentricities of men, she fumbled with the lock, but the door finally fell open.

A weird smell greeted her. It was kind of coppery and was really familiar. "Hello?" she called out into the darkened hallway. Faint whimpers came from her living room. _The hell?_ She closed her door, threw the keys on the little table in the hallway and flicked the light switch.

There was a blood smear on her wooden floor that led around the corner to the room where someone was crying. She gaped at the bright red and shiny stain. Diana was confused, shocked, and a little frightened at this point. There was a crash from the living room and the voice cried out in pain, but it sounded muffled. In any case, the distraction spurred her to action and she ran up the hallway, avoiding the blood. She didn't consciously notice that the mirror above the hallway table did not reflect her.

"Oh my God!" Diana stopped in shock, hands pressed tight against her mouth and eyes wide.

Josh, poor, sweet, innocent Josh, was tied and gagged on the floor between the coffee table and the TV. He had shallow cuts all over his body and blood had soaked through his expensive suit. At the sight of her, Josh screamed against his gag and shied away, tears leaking from his pain-filled eyes. Diana dropped to his head, untying the strip of cloth wrapped around his mouth.

"Josh, what—who did this to you?" Diana felt like crying at the fear in his eyes. He backed away from her touch, scooting as best he with his arms and legs tied.

"Please let me go," he whispered, spitting out blood. "Please. I swear I won't tell, just let me go, I'm sorry for whatever I did!" Josh cringed when she tried to come nearer.

_What the hell?_ Diana was having trouble processing. Her date had left her at the restaurant, came to her apartment and been beaten to within an inch of his life. Oh, and he thought _she_ had been the one slicing him.

She wondered if that margarita she had earlier was stronger than she thought.

"Just—just wait here, I'm going to call for some help," Diana stammered out, staggering to her feet. Her hands and dress were bloodsoaked. In the kitchen, she wiped her hands on her dress and picked up the phone. Before she could dial, though, Josh screamed from the other room. It was a short scream and quickly cut off into gurgles. Diana thought she was going to throw up.

Sobbing with fear and confusion, Diana forced her fingers to dial 911. After a few tries, the line began ringing. "Come on, pick up," she whispered. She tried to peer around the doorway to see if Josh was alright.

The silence worried her. With the line still ringing in her ears, Diana crept out of the kitchen, but not before grabbing a knife from her knife rack. She faintly noticed her largest one was missing. After a deep breath, Diana turned the corner and stood face to face with the attacker.

She looked into her own eyes.

_This is impossible_, she thought before everything went black.

* * *

><p>-<em>I-40, just past Knoxville, Tennessee, present-<em>

The Mustang was Kurt's favorite car ever. It was gorgeous, ran smoothly after almost half a century on the road, and the sound system was amazing.

The Mustang was also Blaine's, but who cared?

_Boys and things that come by the dozen,_

_ They ain't nothin' but drugstore lovin'_

_ Hey little thing, let me light your candle 'cause_

_ Mama, I'm so hard to handle now, gets around_

"I think this song describes you well," Blaine interrupted Kurt's singing. In reply Kurt punched Blaine's shoulder.

"Jealousy is not a good look for anyone." Kurt grinned. It felt amazing to be free of New Jersey. That whole case was just weird. "Why do we have go to Bellevue anyway? What'd your dad say?"

Blaine pulled out the piece of paper with the names his dad gave them. "I really don't know. In the past couple months, there have been a few domestic disturbances where one partner killed the other and he wants us to look into it. But there's no pattern or anything. Just seems like people being people." Blaine leaned back on the seat and closed his eyes. "Also, your 'two hundred miles' was up four hundred miles ago. My turn." Kurt snorted, but didn't protest when Blaine fiddled with the radio dial. Soon, Collective Soul's _Shine_ filled the car. Blaine absently began miming the chords, looking out the window at the passing cars.

It was just weird how Blaine jumped to his father's every demand even though Kurt got the feeling he hated the man. "You know," Kurt said gently, not wanting to upset Blaine. "We don't have to go to Oklahoma. We can leave this case alone. If there's even a case at all." But Blaine was shaking his head.

"No. My dad's an asshole, but he wouldn't send us on a wild goose chase. If he says we have to go somewhere, we should." Blaine looked Kurt up and down. "Actually, I'm not even sure if he knows about you." He mused. "Dad hung up before I could ask."

How to distract Blaine… "What are the names he gave you again?" Kurt asked.

"Diana Corbett, Bobby Reynolds, Ryan Smith. They all killed their significant others. All were found at the scene of the crime, but none have confessed. The victims were two men and a woman. They don't know each other, though they were around the same age." Blaine recited the information dully.

Kurt glanced over at Blaine, who was staring out the window again. He was trying to hide it, but Kurt knew Blaine was upset about his father. On impulse, he took the next exit, hoping that some real food might cheer him up. Blaine loved food.

An hour later found them in yet another nameless motel room.

"SHIT, Kurt, watch it!"

"If you held still, it wouldn't hurt so bad!" Kurt snapped, stabbing Blaine's shoulder with the needle and pulling the thread through.

The deep gash ran about six inches from Blaine's left shoulder diagonally to the middle of his chest. Blaine clutched his bloodied shirt in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other. He took a large gulp of the latter when Kurt pushed the needle into his flesh again.

"I don't why I'm doing this anyway," Kurt muttered. "I don't know what I'm doing. What if I sew this up wrong? Maybe we didn't disinfect everything properly, I could be sewing up your shoulder and you could get an infection and lose your arm and it'll be all my fault…" Kurt kept rambling and honestly, really? Blaine was the one with the huge cut and being stitched together and Kurt was the one freaking out. "Oh my god, what if you scar?" Kurt looked truly horrified at that thought.

Blaine let out a short bark of laughter. "Kurt, I can honestly tell you that I'd rather scar than bleed to death." Kurt wasn't convinced. "Look, don't worry. You're doing fine. Your stitches are a hell of a lot neater than mine, that's for sure…" Blaine twisted his head to look at Kurt's handiwork. He slipped his hand into Kurt's free one. "Just relax. It's almost over."

Kurt nodded frantically and finished the last few stitches, tying it off like he would an ordinary sewing job. "You are so lucky I majored in fashion and have been able to sew since sixth grade." He taped a thick pad of gauze over the stitches. "And don't pull those out." He warned, collecting the bloody rags and tossing them into the trash. He washed his hands in the bathroom as Blaine collapsed back on the bed. "I can't believe you didn't kill yourself." He called from the bathroom with a disapproving voice. "What the hell were you thinking?"

Walking out of the bathroom, Kurt found Blaine with a pillow over his face. He rolled his eyes and yanked the pillow away. "And what have we learned, Mr. Anderson?" He asked sweetly. Blaine sulked in reply.

"Not to try and show off my knife tossing skills." He mumbled. Blaine grabbed the pillow back and hid his face. He'd only wanted to show how he could throw a knife up, have it spin around three times, and land perfectly in his hand. And he could. He just…missed this time. And basically stabbed himself in front of Kurt and the waiter. It wasn't his best moment. And how was he to know that the place had really sharp knives anyway?

"Good boy." Kurt patted Blaine's arm. "Alright, here are our choices: we can spend the night and get to Oklahoma tomorrow or leave now and you can sleep in the car. Either way, you're not allowed to drive."

Blaine sat up quickly, wincing when the stitches pulled. "No, I wanna drive this time!"

Kurt looked at him skeptically. "Can you even raise your arm above your head?"

He tried. "Not really."

"So I'm driving." Kurt threw a bottle of pills at Blaine. "Pain meds. Don't take them yet though, wait for the booze to wear off."

Ordinarily, Blaine would have said something about Kurt being so bossy. However, Blaine knew Kurt was just worried and trying to hide how freaked out he'd been earlier when the knife slipped. Blaine didn't think anyone could possibly get that white and not pass out. So he just pocketed the bottle and thought about it. "We might as well just there tonight." Blaine sighed. His shoulder was starting to ache again. "You can drive."

Kurt looked relieved Blaine wasn't going to fight him. "Perfect. You can wait in the car while I check us out. Oh god." Blaine saw Kurt's sudden change of expression and laughed. The clerk would have a field day. Two men renting a room for together a few hours and then leaving? And Kurt was fairly well dressed. If that didn't scream 'prostitute'…

"We all make sacrifices." Blaine said solemnly, dodging Kurt's pillow. "Hey! I'm injured!"

"Not on this side," Kurt punched his healthy shoulder.

* * *

><p>The Bellevue County Police Department had a relatively large jail for the size of the town. And it was clean and didn't smell like urine or smoke like Kurt assumed it would. Kurt was actually still in shock Blaine let him go to this interview alone. Well, Kurt called it an interview. Blaine called it "interrogating the subject to find out if anything supernatural was going on." But anyway. Kurt convinced Blaine that splitting up meant they'd finish the job sooner and that meant eating sooner. Honestly, the way the boy downed food, Kurt was surprised Blaine wasn't three hundred pounds by now.<p>

Inside, the officers manning the jail looked at his FBI badge suspiciously, but Kurt was pretty sure that was because it said "Bob Seger" and Blaine was _definitely_ getting a stern talking to later.

Stupid Blaine. Scaring the shit out of him with that knife trick. Kurt's heart had absolutely stopped when the accident happened and all the _blood_…

No. He wasn't going to think about that. Blaine was fine. He was checking out the victims and the crime scenes for clues while Kurt interviewed the killers.

The interview room Kurt currently waited in was small, with two chairs, a table, and a one-way window. He fixed his hair in the reflection while he waited for a Miss Diana Corbett to be brought in. She'd been the latest attacker in the murders. The police file Blaine stole off the law enforcement database said that she'd gone on a date four days ago with a Mr. Joshua Blandon, took him back to her apartment, then cut him into pieces on her living room floor. They found her after a 911 call was placed from the house and three officers arrived to her screaming about her reflection. She was currently waiting for the judge to determine whether or not she would stay in the jail or be moved to the mental institution just outside of town.

This would be a fun interview.

The door unlocked and a small blonde woman in an orange jumpsuit was let in by a police officer. Her hair was lifeless and straggly and her eyes darted around the room wildly, finally catching sight of her reflection in the window and freezing.

"Have fun," the other officer shoved Diana to the chair, handcuffed her, and left the room, door locking on the way out.

Kurt studied the girl in front of him. She was like a caged animal, shuddering and jerking in her chair, but she resolutely watched herself in the window-mirror. He wondered if she'd slept since the attack.

"Ms. Corbett, my name is Agent…er…Seger." Kurt cleared his throat. "Um, how are you?" Crap. Maybe Blaine was right, Kurt wasn't ready to do interviews on his own. Diana seemed unfazed though.

"Charmed." She bit out tightly, still not looking at him.

Well, this was going well. "So…why don't you tell me what happened that night?" Oh God, he sounded like one of those detectives in every cop movie ever.

Diana tore her gaze from her reflection and looked Kurt up and down. She sat back in her chair and folded her arms defiantly. "Why should I tell you? You have the transcripts from the other times." Kurt actually didn't, but she didn't need to know that. "And anyway, you won't believe me. No one does." She said the last sentence softly, eyes downcast.

"You'd be surprised." Kurt said dryly, thinking about his life for the past month and a half. "I want to hear your story. Everything. I promise I will listen."

She seemed to be searching for doubt in his face, but finding none, Diana sighed. With a quick glance at her reflection again, she leaned forward, elbows on the table and hands clasped. "You swear you won't think I'm crazy?" She looked at Kurt intensely.

"I swear." Honestly, nothing she said could be weirder than killing _the_ Jersey Devil only a few days ago.

Nodding to herself, Diana took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Ok. I can do this," she muttered. Kurt waited as patiently as he could.

"Well, we were at the restaurant. And I went to the bathroom, right? But when I came back, Josh was gone. So I had to wait and get a cab to get back home to my place. And I went upstairs and opened the door and it smelled like, really weird you know? But anyway—"

"Was your door unlocked?" Kurt interrupted.

Diana shook her head, almost in tears. "I don't know! I was really upset, being abandoned and all, and I did have trouble opening my door so I could have accidently locked it first and then unlocked it—it could have been unlocked when I got there, I just don't know."

It was worth thinking about. "Alright, just wondering. Keep going."

She did.

"Your double killed your date."

Diana nodded frantically. "Yeah!" She eyed the mirror apprehensively and leaned in. "Right before I found Josh, I saw something weird."

Kurt resisted the urge to be snarky and ask if she meant something weirder than what she'd already told him.

"I didn't have a reflection." She whispered.

That was unexpected. "Excuse me?"

"I've been replaying that night in my head every since I was arrested. And I'm so sure that when I walked down my hallway and passed the mirror, I wasn't there. And that's not all." Oh God, Kurt could feel a headache coming on. Demons and ghosts and creatures were one thing but murderous reflections? "For days before that night, I kept feeling like my reflection was watching me."

He tried to keep a straight face. He did. "Well generally, when you look in a mirror, you know, your reflection kind of looks back…"

"Not like that!" Diana waved her hand impatiently. "No, like, I'd look away, but my reflection would still be watching me. All the time. It was creepy. I just thought it was me being stressed and imagining things but now…"

Yeah, but now. Kurt really hoped Blaine knew what this was, because he was getting some seriously unsettling vibes from this case.

"Do you believe me?" Diana grabbed his hands with her handcuffed ones. "I didn't kill Josh. I swear I didn't." Tears welled up in her eyes.

"Yeah." Kurt squeezed her hands. "I believe you." He felt guilty at her immediate relief. Even if he believed her (and he did), it wouldn't clear her. How the hell were he and Blaine going to keep her from going to jail for murder? She was quite literally found with blood on her hands.

_Maybe Blaine had an idea,_ Kurt thought as he comforted Diana.

* * *

><p>When Kurt finally got back to home base (<em>Homeless Brett's Motel<em> and seriously, motel namers? Seriously?), he found Blaine staring at himself in the mirror next to the TV.

"You ok?"

Blaine jumped at Kurt's question. "What? Oh. Yeah." Blaine glanced back at the mirror guiltily before plastering a grin and noticing Kurt's gifts. "Yes, burgers!" He eagerly grabbed a bag and dug one out. "You're the best, Kurt!" he said happily, taking a huge bite of a cheeseburger with ketchup and mayonnaise.

"Welcome." Kurt said absently, dropping his phone on his bed and pulling out a salad. She narrowed his eyes at Blaine. "Why're you looking at yourself in the mirror?" he asked.

"Thought I missed a spot shaving." Blaine lied quickly. Kurt didn't need to know Blaine thought his reflection had moved by itself. He got enough weird looks as it was.

Thankfully, Kurt didn't push it. Though he watched Blaine carefully.

"Well, anyway," Kurt took a bite of lettuce and swallowed. "Listen to this. Diana thinks her reflection killed her date." Blaine choked on his burger.

"Thanks," he said hoarsely after Kurt pounded his back to free the chunk of meat.

"Uh huh." Kurt was definitely suspicious now. "That wouldn't sound familiar to you, Blaine, now would it?"

Blaine wiped his mouth to buy time. Also it did sound familiar. He was pretty sure his father mentioned something about 'evil doubles' at one point. He shrugged, but didn't say anything.

Kurt just narrowed his eyes and took a long drink of his Diet Coke. "So. She was saying how she thought her mirrors were acting strange a few days before the attack. Like, not showing her at times, moving when she turned away and stuff."

"'Ounds kazee," Blaine said through a mouthful of meat, bread and cheese. He swallowed at Kurt's revolted look. "Sorry. I said, 'sounds crazy.'"

"Blaine, we hunt ghosts daily." Kurt stated flatly.

Blaine snorted. "True." He smiled.

"What was in the apartment?" Kurt changed the subject.

The apartment. Well once he'd got the super to let him in, it was a normal college student's place, tastefully decorated and a decent size. One bedroom, one bath, a living room, and a kitchen.

Only, this one had a giant pool of blood in front of the TV from the murder of a man.

"Like a normal apartment," Blaine finished the burger, crumpling the paper and tossing it at the trash can. He made a face when he missed. "It was completely clean. Well, clean-ish. No EMF readings, no sulfur, no ectoplasm, nothing supernatural. Wait, you said she thought her reflection was moving?"

Kurt hesitated. "Ok, look, I know you said not to talk to the rest of the suspects on the list—" Blaine groaned. "—But, I did anyway. I'm sorry!"

"Jesus, Kurt, I try to keep you safe, and you just go off and do whatever the fuck you want, is that right?" He hadn't wanted to let Kurt go alone in the first place, but the man had begged and begged and Blaine had a really hard time saying 'no' to those blue eyes. But Kurt had sworn to only talk to the latest attacker and leave the others for Blaine. And evidently lied.

Blaine cringed when Kurt stood up angrily. "As I keep telling you, Blaine," Kurt spat out. "I am not a china doll! I can hold my own and I'm stronger than you think! You need to understand that you don't have any right to control me."

"No, _you_ need to understand that when I tell you to do or to do not something, you listen!" Blaine yelled right back. "You have been a hunter for five weeks, Kurt. Five weeks! That's it!" Kurt's jaw was tightened but he let Blaine continue. "I have been doing this for fifteen fucking years, and I have seen what happens to rookies when they rush into situations half-cocked!"

Kurt had the grace to flush.

"It was reckless to go in there by yourself and interview potential murderers before knowing the whole situation."

"It was a police station, Blaine. They were handcuffed to the table, and the table was bolted down. I was perfectly safe." Kurt held his head proudly and looked Blaine straight in the eye. Holy hell, Blaine could not believe the streak of stubbornness in his best friend.

"It was not." Blaine retorted. "What if it had been a ghost? What if it was some kind of weird virus that selectively infects potential victims? Look at me, Kurt!" Blaine grabbed Kurt's arm where the boy was trying to turn away. "I mean it! Things like that happen, and you wouldn't know how to handle that kind of situation." Not that Blaine always would, but the point still stood.

Kurt ripped his arm out of Blaine grip and shot him a look of pure fury. "I know you've got some kind of 'hero complex,' but I will not leave or hide away in motel rooms or libraries like a princess while you go out and face danger. I did what I thought I should based on the information I got from Diana, and I'd like it if you'd trust me every now and then." All of this was delivered in a very calm and icy tone, and Blaine half wished Kurt was yelling instead. "I'm not a fucking idiot and I'm not fragile. Fuck you for thinking I need protection."

Blaine opened his mouth to say something, but no words came. He was suddenly getting the feeling that he'd really screwed this up.

Kurt grabbed his coat and stalked to the door. Just before he walked out, Kurt turned back. "When I talked to Bobby Reynolds and Ryan Smith, both of them had been seeing things in the mirrors too. There's something in the mirrors." Kurt turned on his heel and slammed the door behind him.

Dropping his head in his hands, Blaine swore. "Fuck." He muttered.

* * *

><p>Cole Baldwin felt like he was going insane.<p>

"I think I'm going insane." He told his friend, Rebacca Morgan, who was sitting on his couch and lazily drinking a beer. He kept glancing over her shoulder into the mirror next to the doorway into the kitchen. The urge to cover every reflective surface in his house was crazy, absolutely mad, but by god he wanted to do it.

It all started three days ago. He'd been shaving, carefully watching himself in the mirror so he didn't cut himself, and his reflection…_winked_ at him. Actually _winked._ He'd thought he was seeing things, so he just washed off the shaving cream and went on with his day.

But then it happened again. And _again._ Always little things. Cole's reflection would sneeze when he coughed, yawned when he talked, and generally did _not_ behave like a reflection. Cole was getting scared. This sort of thing wasn't supposed to happen outside of _The X-Files._

Rebecca didn't believe him. Cole could tell. She listened patiently to his story, but kept sighing at all the wrong parts. She came over, though, which is more than he could say for his ex. She stood up and got out a bottle of wine from his fridge and two glasses. "I think," the pretty brunette said, pouring a glass for each of them. "You should drink this and take a shower. Relax, you know? Then come out, and we'll order Chinese and watch cheesy movies all night."

Honestly, that all sounded pretty nice. And maybe they'd drink a little more and she'd let him hold her and then…he shook his head. _One step at a time, Cole…_ "Alright. Let's do that. It's gotta be the stress or something." He gulped down the wine ungracefully. "I couldn't have seen what I did, right?"

"Right." Rebecca smiled. "Go, you big baby." She pushed him off the couch with her feet, giggling.

"I'll be right back!" He grinned, backing into the bedroom and nearly tripping over himself. He could hear Rebecca laughing at him and then the TV turning on. Cole shook his head, walking past the bed to the bathroom. It was a lot harder to believe in sentient reflections when his semi-girlfriend was in the next room.

The bathroom was white and small: a toilet, a sink, a mirror, and the best part: a two-person shower. He'd splurged for the last when he bought the apartment. Before stepping into the shower, though, he checked the mirror. A muscular, light-brown haired man with blue eyes and of average light looked back. Nothing unusual. He closed the shower door and hit the faucet.

Rebecca was flipping through the channels. She couldn't find anything, and finally tossed the remote on the other end of the couch, leaving the channel on a rerun of _Law and Order: SVU._ She watched the large scary man yell at a criminal and sipped the wine. Cole was being strange tonight. She thought about his story. His _impossible_ story. Obviously, reflections didn't move and she was crazy even half believing him.

No, she didn't believe him. He must be trying to scare her so she would cuddle with him. Because cuddling might lead to certain other things…and those other things she might not be opposed to…

She jumped when a hand came down on her shoulder. "God, Cole!" Rebecca smacked her on-again-off-again boyfriend's arm with her free hand as he sat down on the couch. "Don't scare me like that!"

"Sorry," his voice was low and he was staring at her intensely. Cole wasn't wearing a shirt, only sweatpants. And judging by how low those sweatpants were, he probably wasn't wearing underwear either. And oh God that should not be as hot as it was. Cole inched up to her and Rebecca put the wine on the floor so she could thread her fingers through his hair.

"That was a really fast shower," she managed before he was kissing her deeply and harder than he'd ever done before. She moaned into it, pulling him on top of her.

But a voice inside her head was whispering that something was wrong. Cole never, _ever_ kissed like this. Even when they were dating. He was too nervous to take the initiative.

When she could breathe again, Rebecca gently pushed him back. He leaned back on his legs, but kept straddling her. "What's going on?" She asked, concern lacing her voice.

"Nothing." Cole leaned into her, obviously trying for her mouth again but she held him back.

"No, I mean it, what's wrong? This isn't like you."

Cole's expression darkened and Rebecca began to feel nervous. Cole had never been violent with her. Or anything else, actually. The buy cried when he had to kill spiders. His hands moved to her shoulders. He was leaning in for another kiss when Rebecca realized what she was hearing.

From the sound of the bedroom, she could hear the shower running. Horrified, she turned her eyes to the man on top of her. He looked like Cole. He _was_ Cole. And yet…he wasn't. She opened her mouth to scream, but he clamped a hand over her mouth hard enough for her lips to bleed from her teeth.

"I just want to be loved," not-Cole told her sadly. Rebecca felt tears pooling in her eyes. She struggled, but its strength kept her pinned to the couch. She whimpered when he pulled out a huge knife, probably from the kitchen. "You've failed me too," he whispered into her ear.

Rebecca screamed beneath his hand.

* * *

><p>Fifteen minutes later and a hell of a lot cleaner and calmer, Cole stepped out of the water. "Hey, Becca!" he called, toweling off. She didn't answer though. <em>Must have fallen asleep.<em> Cole shrugged and pulled on boxers and sweatpants. He thought about a t-shirt, but decided against it. "Becca?" Cole walked out the bathroom . The living room felt…different. For some reason, goosebumps erupted on his arms and he shivered involuntarily. Rebecca still hadn't answered. He cautiously walked around the couch. And then almost threw up.

Rebecca had been mutilated. Cuts. Just…all over her body. Her beautiful, kind, teasing brown eyes stared emptily through him and oh wow, that wine was threatening to come back up. He shakily stepped backwards, breathing harshly.

Did people really have that much blood in them? The couch was soaked. Cole watched a drop of blood dripped off the tip of her finger and fall into the growing pool on the floor. Something tapped his shoulder, and Cole whipped around, hands flying up to protect his face.

Holy. Fuck.

He was staring at _himself_. The other Cole was naked and bloody, but it was definitely himself. "What the…" he breathed, head reeling.

The bloodied man grinned evilly down at Cole. Faintly, sirens screamed outside. Cole's hands were grabbed roughly, getting smeared with blood.

"Sorry about this, but I can't get caught. Not now. You understand right?" the other Cole said sympathetically, patting Cole's arm. "Thank you for giving me a chance."

Cole had no idea what it was talking about, just stood rooted to the spot. Footsteps were banging outside his door. A knife was pressed into his hand and in his daze, Cole closed his hands around the hilt. The bloodied Cole walked over the living room's mirror. With a quick wave, it climbed into the mirror. It. Climbed. Into. The. Mirror.

Cole felt his mind breaking in that moment.

When the police burst into his apartment a few minutes later, they found Cole in the same spot, covered in blood and clutching a huge knife.

* * *

><p>Kurt came back to the room after three in the morning. He'd planned it specifically to avoid talking to Blaine, which royally failed because Blaine was still awake. He was sitting at the room's small table, reading three books at once and wearing glasses and sweatpants. And looking really adorable. Asshole. Kurt decided the silent treatment would be appropriate. Without looking at the hunter, Kurt took off his jacket, grabbed a t-shirt, boxers, and his toothbrush from his duffel bag and stalked into the bathroom. Then slammed the door because Kurt Hummel was nothing if not dramatic.<p>

He thought he heard Blaine sigh through the closed door, but fuck that. Kurt was pissed and Blaine was sure as fuck going to know about it. His whole life, Kurt had been compared to a girl. People just tossed adjectives around him, always ignoring _him._ 'Fairy,' 'princess,' 'girl,' Kurt was sick of it. He was done with always being seen as the damsel in distress or the weakling that needed protection. If Blaine Anderson couldn't see that, well…

Kurt would deal with that when he had to.

When Kurt finally came out of the bathroom, he kept up his game of ignoring Blaine, walking past him and stuffing his things into a bag. Maybe Blaine'd get the hint and fuck off for the night. But this was Blaine.

"Kurt?" Kurt heard the uncertainty in Blaine's voice and hated himself for losing a little bit of his anger. That just wasn't fair. He stood up, faced Blaine, and crossed his arms.

Blaine had stood up and now looked guilty. And uncomfortable. Kurt felt his irritation slipping away. He tried not to let it show on his face. Blaine licked his lips before speaking.

"Y-you have a point. I can't keep treating you like a fragile piece of glass." He swallowed at Kurt's slight nod. "I know you're going to have to go out there alone. One day." Blaine was obviously choosing his words carefully and stumbled a little on the delivery. "But. I really think it's not unfair of me to at least be there."

Because Kurt was not an idiot, he fully understood that Blaine was right before. It had been incredibly reckless to talk to the other murder suspects alone on his first foray into interrogation alone. And he knew Blaine was being reasonable when he asked Kurt to let him help learn how to do things because most of hunting was still new to him. But the fucking point still stood.

"You can't protect me forever." Kurt said, watching Blaine's miserable expression carefully. "It's not fair to me. Or you."

Blaine was desperate, Kurt suddenly realized. Desperate and scared. Not just about Kurt disobeying him, but something else.

"Dammit, Kurt. I know. I know how you feel, but you don't understand how dangerous this job is, even in normal times." Blaine paled, realizing what he just said.

Well, there was a hint. "'Normal times?'" Kurt repeated. Blaine clamped his mouth shut and sat back down on the chair. Oh hell, no. Kurt was not going to let him off that easy. "Talk to me, Blaine. What do you mean by 'normal times'? Is now not normal or something? Does this have something to do with what Mr. Schue said at the Roadhouse?"

A muscle twitched in Blaine's jaw, but he remained silent. Kurt's anger came boiling back.

"Blaine! We're supposed to be partners! How the hell can you ask me to trust you with everything when you won't trust me with anything?" Kurt seethed. He was about to launch in a tirade when Blaine fixed him with those sad, tortured eyes and Kurt's words died in his throat.

"Please, _please_ believe me when I say I will tell you. Soon. Just…just not now." Blaine rubbed his face with his hand tiredly. "I don't wanna fight anymore. C-can we just agree to compromise? I'll try to let you do some things on your own, but when I ask you to do something I feel is really important, you'll do it with minimal protest? Please?" Blaine's expression was so exhausted and _sad_ that Kurt found himself nodding.

Closing the books on the tables, Blaine stood up. "We'll pick this up in the morning." he muttered, stepping past Kurt to the bed. Kurt groaned to himself. Nothing had really been fixed.

But Blaine was already under the covers and facing away from him. Wonderful.

Kurt shuffled back to the bed, noticing his phone on top of the covers. He'd wondered where he'd left it, but he'd been too angry earlier to really think about it. He picked it up, noticing the flashing light at the top at indicated unread texts. Turning off the bedside light, Kurt slipped under the blankets and, taking a page out of Blaine's book, turned away from the other bed. He unlocked his phone to read the texts.

Wow. There were more than twenty messages, every single one from Blaine and increasing in panic and worry. The first few were apologies and requests to come back so they could talk about it, but when Kurt hadn't answered, Blaine kept asking where he was and if he was alright and 'dammit Kurt, answer, I'm freaking out and would like to know that you aren't dead please call me.' He'd apparently finally called and realized that the phone was still in the room. The last text message, though, hit Kurt in the gut.

"_I'm sorry that I'm so overprotective. I can't say this out loud, so a text will have to do. Everyone's left me too, Kurt, and I just don't want anything awful to happen to you. If I know you at all, you're still angry, and I don't blame you. But you could have died in the police station or right now, and I don't want that to happen. You're my best friend Kurt, and I just want you to be safe. Just please try to understand why I'm the way I am."_

Kurt turned his phone off and laid in bed for a while, thinking.

He refused to be smothered by Blaine and kept away from the action. But he could let Blaine teach him. And listen to him more often. Without really knowing why, Kurt flung off his covers and stood over Blaine's bed. Plucking up courage from somewhere really deep down, Kurt shook Blaine awake and, ignoring his sleepy protests, told Blaine to scoot over. He slid underneath the covers, bumping legs with Blaine until they could shift around and make room.

With as much dignity as he could muster being in someone else's bed and personal space, Kurt spoke quietly. "I understand what you mean. We can compromise." Kurt whispered. It was too dark to see Blaine's reaction, but he didn't protest when Kurt held him. They fell asleep together for the second time, and Kurt tried to ignore how much he liked it.

* * *

><p>When Kurt woke up, Blaine was walking in loaded with coffee and doughnuts. The difference between now and last night was amazing. Blaine was smiling and bouncing around, dragging Kurt out of bed with so much enthusiasm, Kurt couldn't bring himself to yell at Blaine for messing up his hair or not letting him change.<p>

They ate breakfast together silently, but it was comfortable. They would have to talk about last night eventually, but for now, they'd leave it alone. At some point Blaine put on the TV, tuned to a news channel.

"_Last night, in yet another case of domestic violence turned fatal, Rebecca Morgan was killed by her part-time boyfriend, Cole Baldwin."_

Kurt's head jerked up as the female newscaster rambled on about Baldwin being found with the knife after an anonymous tip to the police, who had arrived just before Rebecca was murdered. A picture of both the victim and the murderer flashed up on the screen, probably from a party somewhere. They looked so happy. The screen changed to Baldwin being led out of the apartment complex, looked dazed and shocked.

"It's not going to stop." Blaine finally said. "I was trying to figure out what it was last night, but nothing fits. Not really." He turned off the TV, taking another gulp of his coffee. "I'm going to call my friend Sam Evans. He's like an encyclopedia about supernatural stuff. Maybe he's heard of this happening before. In the meantime," Blaine tossed a thick book at Kurt, who scowled. "I didn't look in this yet. Have at it." He took out his phone and dialed Sam, putting it on speaker so Kurt could listen.

_"Greetings, young Padawan."_

Blaine rolled his eyes while Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Sam, quit the Yoda act. I got company."

"Hey," Kurt said, looking back at the book.

"_Wait, Blaine's finally getting some?"_ Sam switched back to his regular voice.

"Oh god," Blaine dropped his head into his hands and prayed Kurt wasn't angry.

"Nope, just friends," Kurt didn't even look up. "I'm Kurt. Nice to meet you."

"_Cool. I'm Sam! Hey!"_

"Sam, focus. I got a question for you." Blaine waited to see if Sam would make a movie reference.

"'_So you have questions.'" _Sam quoted as Antonio Banderas. Bingo.

"Really? _Interveiw With A Vampire?_ Really Sam?"

"I thought it was a good impression." Kurt shrugged.

Blaine could feel Sam beam. _"I like him! Keep him, Blaine!"_

"It's a little unnerving how many of my friends like you more than me," commented Blaine. Kurt just smiled innocently. "Anyway. Sam, we're in Bellavue, Oklahoma. There've been a few murders and the last attacker had a strange story. What do you know about, um," Blaine looked at Kurt. "I don't know the whole story, actually."

Kurt took over easily. "The girl being accused swears up and down that it was her reflection that killed her date, not her. She said a few days before the attack, she'd been feeling watched and she thought her reflection wasn't following her. And on the night of the murder, while the boy was being killed, she didn't have a reflection at all. The two previous accused have the same story."

There was silence on the other end. Kurt glanced at Blaine, who didn't seem all that worried. Soon, there was the sound of shuffling books and flipping pages and mutterings.

"_Aha!_" Sam cried out triumphantly. _"It sounds like maybe a doppelganger."_ Blaine opened his laptop and opened a new search. He motioned for Kurt to get a paper and pencil. _"You guys ready?"_

Kurt dug a pen out of Blaine's bag. "Yeah."

Sam cleared his throat and began talking as James Earl Jones. _"'Doppelgangers are creatures that exist in mirrors…When they enter the physical world, they are vulnerable to silver, though can only exist here for so long. They have no true form, simply existing as reflections of the real world. Doppelgangers can travel through mirrors…'" _Sam continued in his regular voice. _"That's all they have. Doppelgangers are incredibly rare; no one's seen them for a few decades...maybe centuries. Usually it's shapeshifters in crimes like these."_

Pausing his pen, Kurt looked up. "Shapeshifters?"

Blaine ignored him. "So, silver?"

"_Yeah. Let me know what happens if you don't die!"_

"Comforting, Sam." Blaine snorted.

"_ be careful, Blaine. May the Force be with you!"_

"And also with you." Blaine blushed, hanging up the phone and not looking at Kurt.

Kurt smirked. "I want to meet him one day."

That would be an interesting situation. Blaine shrugged and yawned, stretching. He winced when the action pulled on his stitches. Kurt noticed, and made Blaine take off his shirt so the bandage could be changed.

It was kind of nice to be taken care of every once in a while.

* * *

><p>Blaine sat outside the police station, bored as hell and waiting for Kurt to come back. Since Kurt already had a cover story in place, they figured it would be easier if he went in by himself to talk to the newest killer while Blaine hung around the parking lot. Blaine fiddled with his silver knife, sitting on top of his car's hood. Kurt had a twin blade hidden in his boot because Blaine insisted.<p>

_Kurt will be fine._ Blaine repeated to himself. After last night and spending hours terrified that Kurt was dead in some alley because Blaine upset him too much to remember his phone, Blaine promised himself he'd never push Kurt away like that again. He stared at the ground, ignoring the passersby. Christ, but Kurt was one of the most self-centered and stubborn bitches he'd ever met.

But also the bravest and kindest. It was a frustrating combination.

He knew he'd have to tell Kurt about how supernatural creatures were…mobilizing, might be the word. For some reason, Blaine suspected his father knew already and that this doppelganger might be a part of it. It was like he had half of the puzzle pieces and was missing the box. Who knew what the big picture was. But it scared Blaine.

"Damn it, fuck!"

Blaine looked up to see a young woman with long red hair and huge heels glaring at a pile of folders and papers on the ground. They must have fallen moments before. She shifted the huge bag on her shoulder and attempted to bend down, but the tight pantsuit skirt was severely limiting that course of action. She let loose a flow of curses that brought a faint tinge of pink to Blaine's ears. And hunters were notorious for their mouths.

No one else was stopping to help her and Kurt was still inside, so Blaine stood up. "Need some help?" He shifted on his feet and smiled uncertainly. The woman looked furious and scary, but she softened when she looked up at Blaine.

"Yes, thanks," the woman blushed, pushing her hair back over her ear while Blaine gathered up the papers. They looked like interviews and police reports actually. And all of the sudden the nice outfit made sense.

"You're a lawyer?" asked Blaine. He held out the stack of paper for her.

She grimaced, took the papers and shoved them in her bag. "Yeah," she sighed. She hesitated for a second, but Blaine had on his innocent/trustworthy face that annoyed Kurt so much. It was irresistible. "My brother," she gestured behind them at the police station. "They think he killed his girlfriend. But I know he didn't. Cole cries over every smear of roadkill on the side of the road. And he faints at the sight of blood." She snorted.

Cole. That was the one from last night. Kurt was probably talking to him right now. Talking to the sister might help. "I'm sorry," Blaine said sympathetically. "Hope the case goes well for you."

"You and me both," the woman muttered darkly.

"I'm Blaine," Blaine stuck his hand out, beaming a radiant smile. He might be gay, but he knew of the effect he had on women. For some strange reason.

Sure enough, it worked. "Susan. Susan Baldwin." She shook his hand purposefully.

"Nice to meet you," Blaine put on another winning smile.

"So, Blaine," Susan's voice edged into flirting territory, and if there was a god Kurt would not walk out right now. He'd kill Blaine. "Why are you skulking around the police station?" she continued.

"'Skulking'? I do not 'skulk,' thank you," Blaine pretended to be affronted, all the while frantically thinking of logical excuses for hanging around there. He decided the truth might work best here. Or a severely edited version of the truth. "I'm waiting for my partner." Flashed an FBI badge. "We're looking into the murders. We think it might be one person," Blaine cut in hurriedly when her face clouded over. "We think the significant others were framed."

Susan considered his words for a minute. "Good. Glad someone around here is using their brain." She said flatly. "Here. In case you find anything." She took out a business card, jotted something on the back, and handed it to Blaine. "Hope to see you again, sweetie! Prove my brother innocent!" She walked away from him, bouncing a little. When Blaine glanced down at the card, he saw she lived in town. She'd written her cell number on the back. He always felt guilty when he flirted with women but it was useful.

But Kurt was walking out of the brick building. He raised a hand in greeting, waiting by the car for Kurt to walk over.

"We were right; it's another one," Kurt said, loosening his tie with a sigh. "He looks awful. Blaine, even if we kill this thing, we can't let those people in there suffer. They're innocent." His eyes were full of guilt and anguish and Blaine hated that he couldn't clear them.

"We'll think of something." Blaine said. They drove back to the motel, stopping by the town library for books on the way.

* * *

><p>As Blaine predicted, Kurt was not happy about Susan. He didn't actually say anything and he didn't yell at Blaine (which was a relief), but he did shoot him very judgmental looks and turned to the window when Blaine tried to apologize. God, he was frustrating.<p>

"All I'm saying," Kurt was saying when they got back to the room. "Is that there are other ways to get information that coming on to a straight girl."

Blaine would never hear the end of this and Kurt hadn't even _been_ there for the incident in question. Wonderful. "Key's are in my back pocket." With his arms filled with the books, Blaine turned around so Kurt could get the keys and unlock the door. He pretended not to see the faint pink tinge on Kurt's cheeks even though it was adorable.

Blaine dumped the books on his bed once Kurt got the door open. He picked the green book for no other reason than the fact that he liked green. Kurt took an enormous red one and they both sat at the small wooden table in the room.

A few hours later, Blaine sighed and let his head hit the table with a loud thunk.

"This is fucking useless." He mumbled into the wood.

Kurt made a noise of agreement. He was looking at a map of Bellevue and trying to figure out how to track the doppelganger. So far, nothing. The attacks and the people were random. None of them knew each other. The only kind of pattern Kurt could see was that the incidents were vaguely in the same area. If the area included half the town. He shoved the map away with a groan.

"Blaine, how're we going to find this thing?"

"No idea." Blaine lifted his head up enough so that only his chin was on the table. "They move through mirrors. And they're attached to the person they're impersonating. So basically, the only requirement is that when they change impersonations, the two people have to be in the same mirror at the same time. Oh. And it's not limited to mirrors either." Blaine scowled at the book in front of him. "Anything with a reflection works. So basically, they can go anywhere; it just might take a little time."

Blaine stood up, throwing on his coat. "I want coffee. Want me to bring some back for you?"

"Yeah, please. If you don't go to a coffee shop, black is fine. Just grab some sugar."

"Sure. Be right back." Blaine waved as he stepped outside. It was getting dark; the sun had just slipped behind the buildings in town. He knew Kurt was likely still angry about the day before, so he figured getting him a non-fat mocha would help Kurt's mood. Luckily, there was a café about a block down the street.

Holding his coat closed against the sudden gust of cold wind, Blaine started walking. The café was quaint, with little tables scattered around the floor and a nautical theme. He put the order in, and ducked into the bathroom. There were two stalls and a sink with a mirror. Out of habit, he glanced in the mirror, checking the bags under his eyes. He needed more sleep, he really did. Sighing impatiently, Blaine picked a stall and did his business. When he opened the stall door to leave, he stopped.

He was looking at himself. Blaine didn't have time to do more than open his mouth before a fist smacked into his temple and everything went back.

* * *

><p>When Blaine finally came back with the coffee, Kurt was almost done taking notes. "One sec," he said, barely glancing up. He finished the line about doppelgangers in Europe before smiling at Blaine. "Thanks," he said, wrapping his hands around the warm cup and sighing happily.<p>

"No prob," Blaine sipped from his own. Kurt felt his eyes on him. It was weird. Sure, he's caught Blaine staring once or twice, but he'd never been so...obvious.

"Is there something on my face?" Kurt's hands flew up. But Blaine just laughed.

"Nope. Your face looks perfect."

And ok. This was officially getting strange. "You ok, Blaine?" Kurt eyed him warily. Blaine looked too happy and too content. For some reason, Kurt felt nervous, something he'd never felt around Blaine before. He stood up, suddenly feeling like a chair was too vulnerable a position when Blaine was staring at him like that.

Blaine took a step forward. "I'm fine," he breathed and then he was in front of Kurt and _really_ close, like too close. Kurt swallowed and tried to step back but his back hit the wall and Blaine was right there.

He could see that Blaine's eyes a little dilated and there were emotions in there that Kurt did _not_ want to think about. Then Blaine was leaning in and Kurt's brain kind of short-circuited for a second and then Blaine was _kissing_ him and he kissed back and it felt really good but also really wrong and Kurt couldn't figure out why and then a voice was screaming in his head _this is so wrong Blaine wouldn't do this stop it stop it stopstopstop—_

Kurt broke the kiss and pushed Blaine back. They were both breathing heavily, and Blaine kept glancing down at Kurt's lips. No. This was not right. "Why did you do that?" Kurt said breathily, suspicion still twisting his guts. He was torn in half—he wanted to kick himself for being scared instead of aroused when Blaine, the guy he was pretty sure he was in love with, finally kissed him, but he also wanted to keep Blaine the hell away because he was acting weird and Kurt was terrified.

Blaine finally looked into Kurt's eyes. "Because I wanted to," he said and stepped forward for another kiss, but Kurt held him at arm's length. For a second, Blaine's eyes because angry and furious, but then they changed into innocent confusion. "Kurt, what's wrong? Isn't this ok?"

With Blaine it would be ok, but Kurt was starting to think the boy in front of him was something else entirely.

"Kurt, I love you. That's all. I just want love." Blaine smiled tentatively.

Something clicked in Kurt's mind. The thought was still unformed but the parts of it that were…well, Kurt reached behind him where he'd stowed the silver knife in his back pocket. When he was in the police station, he'd moved it so he'd have easy access to it. The metal was cool in his hands when he pulled it out, but he kept it hidden. "Take off your shirt." Kurt's voice sounded strangled to himself.

Blaine smiled again and winked. But he pulled off the t-shirt in one smooth moment and stood before Kurt, all muscle and light hair and bandaged on his right shoulder.

Kurt gasped and held the knife in front of him defensively. "Get away from me." He said dangerously. His blood was thudding in his ears and Kurt was suddenly more terrified than he'd even been in his life.

"What? Kurt, it's just me—" Blaine held up his hands when Kurt jabbed the knife forward. "What the hell, Kurt?"

"Blaine—the real Blaine—cut himself on his left shoulder. Yours is on the right. You aren't Blaine, so what the hell have you done with him you bastard?" Kurt yelled, the knife shaking in his hand. His heart was pounding and he tried not to think of Blaine lying in a bathroom somewhere dying. That was too horrible to contemplate.

The thing's face twisted into real anger and it growled, much lower than any normal human would be able to. It jumped at Kurt, who screamed and slashed with the silver knife. Kurt felt the knife bite into skin and the stench of burning flesh hit his nose. A fist hit Kurt's cheekbone hard and Kurt's hissed at the pain, but fought back. He kicked out powerfully, and the doppelganger yelped and broke out of the fight. It backed away across the room, watching Kurt carefully and cradling its arm. There was a long cut on it, the edges burned and faintly smoking. Kurt readied himself for another attack, but then the motel door burst open and a disheveled and frantic-looking Blaine with a huge purple bruise on his temple was standing there.

They stared at each other for a few seconds, all of them tense.

The doppelganger growled in frustration, then turned around jumped through the large window next to the door. The glass shattered and Kurt heard its footsteps thudding against the pavements as it ran.

Blaine's mouth was open as he stared first at the window, then Kurt, then the knife. He came over slowly, and Kurt realized he was still holding the knife like he was about to attack with it. Kurt forced his arms to relax and he stuffed the knife in his back pocket. He winced when Blaine carefully touched his bruised face.

"God…" Blaine breathed. Kurt saw how Blaine was horrified and upset with himself for not protecting Kurt—Kurt would be angry and annoyed at this, but he had much bigger problems at the moment.

He tried to calm his breathing. "Blaine, he said something about love. Wanting love, I mean. He's going to attack someone else." Kurt grabbed his coat and put it on, dodging Blaine's efforts to stop him. "Come on, Blaine! We have to go!"

Blaine sighed, but gave up trying to restrain him. "Kurt, we don't know where he'd go."

True. Kurt thought a minute. "Wait. He wants love. He wants someone to love him. And I don't think the gender matters." Blaine got a sick look on his face, like he realized maybe what his double had tried to do with Kurt. For the sake of time, though, Kurt ignored it. "That lawyer earlier. It might have been attached to one or both of you. Maybe it's going after her? From what you said, she was attracted to you and she wouldn't know you well enough to realize something's wrong."

He almost sighed in relief when Blaine nodded. "Makes sense. He dug out her business card. "I got her address, which means he does too. Let's go." Kurt didn't need any more encouragement than that, practically running at the car. He hoped they weren't too late.

* * *

><p>Susan sat of her couch with a glass of wine and a million papers to look through. Somewhere in this mess was a way to save her brother, and she was going to find it, dammit. At least she hoped she did. Susan groaned and tried to resist the urge to throw everything on the floor and go to bed.<p>

She needed a break. That was it. She needed a few minutes to simply relax and relive all her tension before tackling this case. If only that Blaine guy was here. She definitely wouldn't mind relaxing with him.

The doorbell rang, startling her. It was almost nine pm, who would be ringing a doorbell now? Susan frowned, glanced down at her sweat pants and tank top, and decided who ever it was would just have to deal with her in all her glasses-and-pajamas glory. When she opened the door, however, she rethought her priorities.

"Blaine! What the hell are you doing here?" She gaped, taking in his bare torso, wounded shoulder and cut arm. He was breathing heavily, like he'd run a long distance. But still. Only a few minutes ago he'd wished he was here and now Blaine was standing on her doorstep. _Maybe there is a God,_ she thought absently and she stepped aside to let him in.

Before closing the door, she glanced around, but the night was empty. Susan wondered where Blaine got attacked and was a bit flattered he came here. "Blaine what—oh!" Susan felt herself shoved against the now-closed door. Blaine kissed her deeply and hungrily and Susan briefly thought about why before deciding that she really didn't care.

"Do you love me?" Blaine whispered against her lips, grinding their bodies together.

Well, hey, that was interesting. She'd never had a guy ask her that unless they were already dating. And it was really hard to think with his hips doing the things they were doing, but she did her best.

"Yeah—sure—whatever—oh God," she gasped out. Susan was so caught up in her haze of lust that it was a few seconds before she realized Blaine had stopped. "Blaine?"

He shook his head. "You're just like the others," he said sadly. Blaine backed away from her, heading deeper into her house. "I thought maybe you'd be different—maybe you'd love me but you don't." His voice was full of regret and Susan felt a tendril of fear creep up her spine.

"What are you talking about, Blaine?" Susan tried to sound brave, but her voice trembled. She followed Blaine into the kitchen. "I've only known you for a few hours, how can I love you already?" The tendril of fear became bigger when she saw him pick up a large knife from the rack. He slowly twirled it in his hand, examining every inch of it. "Your reflection." Susan felt sick when she saw it. Or didn't see it. "It's gone." Blaine smiled and held up the knife so it showed her pale and scared face. He waved his hand in front of it, but the picture never changed.

"I'm just going to try again. I'll find someone one day." Blaine swung the knife at her and Susan screamed, ducking and running away. She tore down chairs and tables behind her, hoping to slow the madman down.

God, she was an idiot. Susan had seen all those slasher flicks. The pretty girl always dies when she has sex. Or is about to have sex. And clearly, Blaine is a madman. She darted past the couch, through the hallway and into her bedroom, where she closed the door, locked it and struggled to drag the heavy dresser in front of the door while Blaine pounded on it impatiently.

"Leave me alone!" Susan shrieked, sobbing. She finally got the dresser in front of the door, but Blaine was still hitting it hard enough that the hinges were groaning. The ceaseless thumping terrified Susan even though she knew Blaine would have a hard time bust through the mahogany dresser. As much as he scared her, the fact still remained that Blaine was no Michael Myers. He was short and not nearly as huge. Another loud _thump_ hit the door and the dresser slid forward a few inches. Susan whimpered.

She nearly tripped as she ran to the bedside table, but managed to stay upright long enough to reach it. Susan fumbled the phone before dialing the police. The door bucked again and she backed into the window. An idea occurred to her, and she pulled aside the curtains. Maybe there would be people out there that could help her faster than the police. A car drove up outside her place and two dark figures scrambled out. She banged on the window, screaming. The taller one saw her, grabbed the other and pointed. They ran towards her door, out of sight.

There was a voice in her ear. Susan took a deep, gulping breath so she could speak clearly. She began telling the 911 dispatcher about Blaine.

* * *

><p>The townhouses Susan lived in were actually really nice. Not that Blaine was really paying attention. He was a little distracted after seeing Susan screaming for help at her window. The door was locked, so he moved aside and let Kurt pick the lock. For some reason, that was another random skill Kurt picked up almost instantly. He was much better than Blaine, at least, and the door was open in less than a minute. Barely waiting for Kurt to stuff his tools back in his pocket, Blaine pushed past Kurt.<p>

It was quiet. Blaine put a finger to his lips to warn Kurt to be silent, who just nodded, knife back in hand. Blaine slowly trained the flashlight beam around the room. It was destroyed, chairs and tables toppled everywhere. Blaine motioned for Kurt to go to the right, where Susan should be. With Kurt gone, Blaine crept up the hallway, holding his own knife ready for an attack. It was fairly short: only eight inches, but he wasn't certain that silver bullets would work so he'd just have to get close.

As Blaine moved from room to room, he found himself getting angry. That doppelganger took his appearance and attacked Kurt, and now was trying to kill an innocent woman. It was insulting and quite frankly, Blaine felt violated. He wanted to kill the thing himself.

A scream behind him made Blaine jump about a foot and almost drop the knife. He turned around to find Susan fighting with Kurt and shouting. Kurt struggled to hold her hands down and yelled right back.

"You're working with him? With HIM? You bastard, let me go!"

"Oh for the love of God, stop it! The guy that hurt you wasn't Blaine!" Blaine winced when one of her fists collided with Kurt's nose.

This had gone far enough. He was smaller than a lot of guys, but he still had muscles from lugging around sixty pounds of ammo and guns daily. Blaine wrapped his arms around Susan and pulling the struggling figure off Kurt. She was sobbing and trying to kick him, but Blaine held on.

"I promise, I won't hurt you. I just got here; the man hurting you earlier wasn't me. I'm Blaine. The real Blaine. And that's Kurt. We're only here to help so can you please calm down?" he spoke directly into her ear. Blaine's voice was in soothing-mode, and he felt Susan slowly relaxing. "I know this doesn't make sense yet, but I promise we'll explain everything when this is over. Now, where did it go?"

Susan stopped struggling. Blaine cautiously let her go, hoping she wouldn't attack again. Her wide eyes slid from Blaine to Kurt. "He didn't have a reflection. Am I dreaming?" she asked Kurt.

"Unfortunately not." Kurt touched his nose and hissed. "Damn, that hurt."

"He stopped hitting my door when you guys came in. I don't know where he went." Susan rubbed her eyes. "I'm going insane. Trusting you two." She spat, glaring. "Especially you. You tried to seduce me!"

Kurt looked up and glared at that. "I didn't!" Blaine protested. "That wasn't me!" Kurt gave him a look that promised there would be a conversation about this later.

Blaine sighed and kept searching the townhouse. He walked into the dining room. Before he could hit the lights, though, something grabbed his ankles and yanked. With a yelp, Blaine toppled to the floor, kicking out wildly at the dark under the table. Kurt yelled something and Susan screamed, but Blaine suddenly felt himself tackled by a figure about his size.

The doppelganger grappled with Blaine, the two of them rolling around the floor and colliding with the chairs and the table. Its knife missed Blaine's face by about a millimeter and Blaine tried to free his wrist long enough to stab it. He was on his back with the doppelganger straddling his chest. Blaine couldn't get enough leverage to force it off, though.

"I—just—wanted—love!" the doppelganger forced out between grunts. "Living your whole life behind a mirror? Being trapped?" It swung the knife and Blaine twisted his face away just in time. "I had to get out! Was that too much to ask?"

"No. But killing people for it was." Kurt's voice was sad.

The doppelganger stopped struggling. Its eyes widened slightly in shock and it turned its head slightly. A knife was jammed into its back near its heart, buried up the hilt. Behind him, Kurt looked miserable. He released the knife. It fell over, breathing shallowly. The wound smoked and sparked, and Blaine eased himself out from under the doppelganger.

Blaine watched himself die. It gave a violent shudder and then collapsed in on itself, turning into dust. The silver knife clattered to the floor, strangely loud in the silent apartment. Numbly, Blaine reached out and picked it up. He saw his reflection was back. Kurt was staring at the pile of dust, only looking up when Blaine put his hand on his shoulder.

They might have stayed like that for a few more minutes, except that Susan was there. And was not dealing well. "What. The hell. Was that." She began hyperventilating. "Oh my god. Oh god. What the fuck."

Blaine winced. "It was a doppelganger. A creature that takes over reflections and can live outside of mirrors for a little while. It's what's been killing people here." Susan didn't look like she completely believed him, but she wasn't screaming. "Um, Kurt and I hunt creatures like that."

The scream of sirens suddenly split the air. Susan paled. "Oh my god. I called the police earlier." Blaine didn't immediately get what the problem was but Kurt did.

"You described Blaine, didn't you. Oh shit." Kurt rubbed his face. "The police are so goddamn slow! If they'd been here a few minutes earlier…"

Well, that would be a problem. It could work out though. But they only had a few minutes. "Susan. Listen. Here's what you're gonna do. Say you fought me off and that I confessed to the other murders. I'm going to stay here long enough for one of the officers to see me—so they know you aren't lying—and then I'm gonna run out the back where Kurt will have the car." Kurt looked furious and ready to protest but Blaine cut him off. "It's the only way to make sure the others in jail aren't blamed for the attacked. It'll be tricky, but it'll work. Just…when you describe me, don't do it too well, ok?" He smiled sheepishly at Susan.

She stared, then threw her arms around him and hugged tightly. "Thank you," she whispered in his ear.

Kurt groaned and pulled him out of her grip. "That's enough, Romeo." He glared. "Where's the back door?"

* * *

><p>The two officers stood outside the Baldwin residence and eyed each other nervously. Riley Cooper was still a rookie and Ben Washburn was only a few years older. Bellavue was a small enough town that the police didn't get much action, so this call was highly unusual and therefore terrifying. A slight man with tall hair that was walking past gave them a weird look. Riley hand a hand up in greeting as the man got into the blue and white Mustang he'd been admiring earlier. Once the man drove away; Riley decided it was now or never. With a deep breath, he prepared himself.<p>

"Police! Open up!" Riley shouted, banging on the door with one hand and holding his gun in the other. When there was no answer, Riley twisted the handle and pushed the door in. He went in first, Ben covering him from behind. It was dark, so both men switched their flashlights on. They balanced their gun-holding hand on the hand holding the flashlight. A scream erupted from the kitchen and, abandoning all training, the two officers ran towards the noise, the light beams swinging wildly.

An average-sized man with dark curly hair stood over a terrified woman. She had a few shallow cuts but otherwise looked alright. She screamed again and before either officer could fire, the man ran out the back door.

"Stop!" Ben shouted. He stayed long enough for Riley to calm the woman, then followed the attacker. The backyard was incased by a high fence, though, and he cursed. The man could be anywhere. He turned and ran through the house, back to the patrol car.

An hour later, Blaine's description was on every news broadcast in Oklahoma.

* * *

><p><em>-US-40, somewhere in Texas-<em>

Kurt was driving and he was angry. Blaine could tell by the way Kurt kept his eyes on the road and wouldn't let Blaine turn the radio on. The past few hours had been torture. And by the looks of it, Kurt wasn't going to be the one to break the silence and Blaine knew from experience that Kurt was a fucking master at holding grudges.

He'd have the bigger man and he hated it.

"Kurt—"

"Shut up, Blaine, I don't want to talk to you right now." Kurt snapped.

Blaine complied instantly. Well ok then.

They drove for another half an hour before Kurt pulled into an empty rest station. He parked the car at the end of the lot. Blaine stayed silent, letting Kurt take his time. Kurt gripped the steering wheel tightly, as if trying to calm down. For some reason Blaine was suspecting there'd be a huge blowup really soon.

"You know, it's really rich of you to go on and on about how awful you'd feel if I died when you just go and throw yourself into dangerous situations without a second thought!" Kurt's voice rose until he was shouting by the end.

_Bingo._

Kurt ignored Blaine's silence and kept right on ranting. "You're unbelievable. 'Kurt, I want to keep you safe. Kurt, I want to protect you. No, don't ask questions, I won't answer them anyway. You don't need to know anything. I'm just going to throw around knives and—and leap in front of policemen with guns and give them a reason to hunt my ass down and shoot me, but I care about you Kurt." The sarcasm was literally dripping off of every word.

Blaine figured he might try to get a word in when Kurt stopped to take a breath. "You're angry." Shit, that wasn't what he meant to say.

He guiltily looked down when Kurt glared at him. "No shit, Blaine! You're wanted in Oklahoma, and, if I know anything about the United States justice system, the FBI is going to get involved since we crossed state lines and then we'll be tracked down. Both of us. And you know what, Blaine?" Kurt dropped his voice into a dangerous hiss. "I look awful in orange and can't rock that jumpsuit."

He stopped talking. And then giggled. _What the?_ Confused, Blaine just watched Kurt collapse into laughter.

"Um, Kurt?" he said hesitantly. Blaine did not enjoy being yelled at and wasn't eager to set Kurt off again.

"Nothing—it's nothing," Kurt laughed, wiping away a tear and smiling at Blaine. "You realize this time I saved your ass instead of the other way around?"

Blaine smiled. Kurt was right, actually. "Yeah how about that?" Kurt seemed pleased with himself. Another thought occurred to Blaine. "Hey—before, when I was knocked out in the coffee shop,"

"Oh is that where you were?"

"Yeah. But anyway. How'd you know he wasn't me?"

To Blaine's surprise, Kurt colored a little. "Um," and yeah, Kurt clearly did not want to discuss this, "Your shoulder."

Descriptive. "What about my shoulder?"

Kurt shifted uneasily. "Well, your stitches are on your left shoulder. His was on the right. Since he's a mirror image and all. So it couldn't be you." His cheeks were slowly getting redder. It was adorable.

"Kurt, why are you blushing?"

"No reason." Kurt threw the car into reverse and drove back to the highway, this time turning on the radio.

_I'm lost at sea_

_ The radio is jammin' but they won't find me_

_I swear it's for the best and then your frequency_

_Is pulling me in closer till I'm home_

"I wish you'd tell me why you've been so moody and worried lately," Kurt finally said.

Blaine didn't answer right away. Kurt was right, though. He was an adult. He chose this path knowing most of the dangers. And Kurt wasn't the helpless princess he appeared to be. It wasn't fair of Blaine to shield him like he had. The world was dangerous, but Kurt was willing to risk it, so why shouldn't Blaine let him in?

"The last few months—maybe years, actually—creatures have been showing up much more often than usual. Everything is up. Ghost sightings, vampire attacks, demonic possessions—everything. And a few hunters have been muttering to each other of a 'storm approaching.' Kurt," Blaine turned to look at Kurt, more serious than he'd even been before. "No one knows what that means, but it's not good. It's always dangerous to be a hunter, but now…" Blaine trailed off. He sighed before continuing. "Now, it's insanity. Things are going to get bad Kurt. I don't know how bad, but…bad. And I'm scared." Blaine whispered the last part, half-hoping Kurt didn't hear.

But he forgot that Kurt has supersonic hearing. "It's a good thing then that you're travelling with back-up then." Kurt winked. Blaine smiled in spite of himself. Kurt's voice dropped a little. "Thank you for telling me. Don't worry, though. We'll get through this."

"How do you know?" But Kurt only smiled and looked back at the road, humming the song and bobbing his head to the beat.

_You live the life you're given with the storms outside_

_ Some days all I do is watch the sky_

_ Today was a good day._

Blaine snuck his hand over to where Kurt's right was drumming on his thigh. He grabbed Kurt's hand, pretending not to see Kurt's sudden grin and breathy laugh.

He'd enjoy this moment while it lasted and deal with the rest tomorrow.

_ Today was a good day._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Songs used: Hard To Handle by the Counting Crows and Watch the Sky by Something Corporate (this is a great song. I love it. Go listen!)**

**So reading through again I realized it does sound like the Supernatural episode "Skin" but by the time that occurred to me, most of this was written. So please forgive me for that. **

**Sam will come back! I love Sam. Mainly because I get his references since I'm a total geek. But Sammmmmmmm.**

**Also, yes, Kurt was kind of bitchy in this episode. Yell at him all you want, I was too!**

**Um as for the next episode, I haven't decided what's going on just yet. And again, it might be a while. Sorry again...**

**Hope you enjoyed this though! Thanks for reading!**


	6. Blood

**Author's Note:**

**Oh God, this is so late. I'm so sorry! On the plus side, this is over 16k words so hopefully that makes up for the ungodly long time it took me to finish. And I really tried, I swear. I should be studying microbiology and organic chem II but I was so close to finishing so...here!**

**Alright, a few housekeeping things. I officially decided to bump up the rating to M. Now before you guys get too excited, no smut. I repeated, NO SMUT. I am just way too uncomfortable writing it, plus as a virgin heterosexual I highly doubt my ability to describe a penis accurately. That being said, I will be reference mature themes like death, rape, molestation, violence, stuff like that. Not necessarily to Kurt or Blaine, but possibly. I will start putting in triggers since I apparently scared some people with the mirrors? I'm sorry! But that means I'm doing my job, right?**

**As always, thank you so much to everyone who takes the time to read, review, favorite, alert, everything! It means so much to me because I have never tried this before and I love that you guys are enjoying this!**

**Also, important question at the end for you guys...**

**Warnings- talking about molestation, violence, vampires**

**So, here's episode 6!**

* * *

><p><em>- US-20, Somewhere in Texas-<em>

This was the kind of day that Blaine used to dream about when he was younger.

A bright sun up above, a beautiful blue sky, temperature comfortable, the road stretching on forever into the horizon.

Blaine sitting on a cooler, leaning against his car and knocking back an ice-cold beer.

And the most important part.

Kurt with the hood of the Mustang propped up, leaning into the machinery with a wrench, grime and dirt smeared on his face where he'd wiped the sweat off, clad in a ratty old t-shirt of Blaine's and torn jeans, humming absently along to the old radio Blaine dug out the trunk.

Of course, Blaine hadn't always thought of _Kurt_ being there. But someone. Just someone there; someone willing to travel with him.

Texas was making him sentimental.

And Kurt caught him staring. But instead of a snarky remark, Kurt broke into a wide grin and began singing along to the radio, using the wrench as a microphone and shaking his hips to the beat.

_"No, I'll stand my ground, won't be turned around,_

_ And I'll keep this world from dragging me down,_

_ Gonna stand my ground and I won't back down."_

He grabbed Blaine's hand and yanked him up, pointing the wrench at Blaine's face and smirking expectantly. Blaine took the cue and sang the chorus with Kurt's backing vocals meshing strangely well. Figuring he might as well go out, Blaine grabbed a screwdriver and hammed it up to Tom Petty, dancing around the Mustang. Kurt just laughed, and never missed a line.

It felt so right and perfect to sing his heart out with Kurt right there with him. Even though the world was full of shit, this lonely Texas highway was a perfect moment. He worried everyday about whether taking Kurt out of Ohio was the right move but right now? He knew it was. Somehow, they were both in front of the Mustang again, facing each other as the song wound down.

_"I won't back down."_

_ "No, I won't back down."_

Kurt finished, meeting Blaine's gaze evenly. The kid had too much pride. Too stubborn. Blaine felt himself blushing, but he didn't want to be the one to break eye contact first. The radio DJ was rambling about some contest, and then U2 was slipping through the speakers.

_Tough, you think you've got the stuff_

_ You're telling me and anyone_

_ You're hard enough_

The radio was testing him; Blaine just knew it. He silently cursed Bono.

But Kurt was turning away and had his arms elbow deep into the Mustang's guts. Blaine didn't have a clue what Kurt was doing; he was hopeless when it came to cars. When the Mustang started clanking on the highway, he'd pulled over and let Kurt work his magic. As Kurt clearly wasn't interested in talking, Blaine sat back down in his previous position and brooded about the warnings and signs he kept seeing. Seeing Pavarotti was next to him, Blaine began tuning her just for something to do.

Something was coming. Something huge.

And no one knew what it was.

"I meant it, you know." Kurt's voice interrupted his thoughts. Blaine watched him tighten something deep within the car; watched him grunt with effort before it satisfied him. Then Kurt was looking at him, all blue fire in his eyes and strong chin. "The song. I'm not running away."

Blaine didn't answer, just plucked the strings in a random tune.

"I know you don't believe me," Kurt continued, wiping his hands off with an oil-stained rag and shutting the hood. "But I won't. We're in this together. Nothing will scare me off. I'm too much of a stubborn-ass bitch, remember?" Kurt smirked when Blaine finally laughed. "Come on. Get up." He kicked the cooler lightly. "I fixed your baby, you can drive her. I want a nap."

Blaine rolled his eyes, but got up and stowed Pavarotti in her case and rested her in the backseat. Kurt jammed the toolbox in the trunk between the shotguns and books in the trunk before flopping into the passenger seat, cranking the window down. He kicked off his shoes, curling up in the seat and falling asleep against the window ledge within seconds.

* * *

><p>With a silent scream, Kurt jolted awake. For a few seconds, his eyes darted around the car before he recognized the familiar Mustang and its leather seats. It had gotten dark outside but they were still driving.<p>

_Get a grip Kurt. You're safe. Blaine's here. You're not…there._ Kurt groaned and rubbed a hand over his face, trying to stop shaking. This was the second dream in a week that he'd woken up muffling screams and tears. He saw Blaine out the corner of his eye looking at him with a grim expression while talking on the phone. Oh, awesome. Blaine noticed. Maybe he'd forget. Not likely, of course.

They were actually more frequent than Blaine knew. And had started over a year ago. At first, he dreamed only once or twice every couple of months, but they sped up after his father died. Every week, then every few nights, now every night and sometimes during the day. Kurt was just very good at staying quiet at night. He had a lot of practice from high school. But Blaine was starting to notice.

And he couldn't give Blaine another reason to leave him.

God, but he was horribly co-dependent wasn't he?

Kurt tried to calm his breathing, listening to Blaine's voice.

"Sam, why're you calling us? It's like one in the morning." Blaine sounded tired, but he gave Kurt a glance that said _We are so not finished._ "Come on Sam…wait, really? You think…this could be interesting yeah! Where is…" By habit, Kurt already had a notebook and a pen out. Blaine grinned and dictated a few names, spelling a few. "Thanks, Sam! …I'll let you know…What? Oh. Yes, I'll bring him one day. Full name? Kurt Hummel, but why…" Blaine suddenly blushed. Interesting. What could possibly make Blaine Anderson blush? Kurt tried to hide a grin. "Yes, he's nice. Shut up, Sam! Sam says hi, by the way." Blaine glanced at Kurt, who was snickering. He flushed even darker. "I'm hanging up now. Bye, Sam. Yes, I miss you too. God, you need to get out once in a while. Talk to you later." He hung up, rolling his eyes and smiling apologetically at Kurt. "Sorry about that."

"No, he seems cool. I wanna meet him." Kurt waved his hand flippantly. "Anyone who can make you blush is instantly alright in my book." He nudged Blaine's shoulder.

"Whatever." Blaine scoffed. "Anyway…" And Blaine was looking at Kurt with barely contained excitement. Kurt wondered if he should be worried. "How do you feel about vampires?"

Kurt blinked. "Vampires?"

* * *

><p><em>-Halling, Nebraska -<em>

The small woman licked the last of the blood off her lips. She relished the coppery bittersweet taste before leaning in to kiss her mate's cheeks. He stood up, pulling her with him and settling his hands on her waist.

"So beautiful," he whispered into the moonlight, dragging a cool finger lightly across her cheeks.

She felt his stomach through his thin shirt. "So are these," she whispered, giggling. "I swear, every year these abs get more and more defined."

"I think you're more in love with my abs than with me."

"Guilty." The girl sighed, leaning in to his embrace and enjoying the feeling of his hand combing through her long, silky, black hair. For the moment, they were safe. But they would have to go back to the nest soon and deal with the others. "What are we going to do?" she whispered.

The tall man just sighed. "I don't know. We'll think of something."

They walked away from the field, leaving a drained cow corpse behind.

* * *

><p>The bar was loud and raunchy, but the bartender was friendly. Blaine flirted with her enough to get free beers, knowing that Kurt was watching and probably laughing his ass off. When we got back to the table, though, Kurt was resting his head on his hand with his eyes closed.<p>

" 'm not sleeping." He mumbled, grabbing one the beers and pressing the cool glass to his forehead. "Leave it alone, Blaine." He glared, daring Blaine to say something.

Christ. Blaine was starting to get worried about his lack of sleep, but Kurt was too stubborn to talk about it. He decided now was not the time to get into a fight.

"So, check it out." Blaine unfolded a map over the small table. It detailed Halling, Nebraska and the surrounding counties. Pulling out a marker, Blaine began making dots on the paper, trying to remember what Sam had said on the phone. "There are two things going on. In the past three weeks, five cows have been found drained of blood. Old ones, ones that can't produce milk and were about to be sold for their meat." He marked five circles in red on the surrounding fields. "They're from several different ranches too. Now in town," Blaine found a green marker "Here and…here, two people have been found dead. One was a twenty-five year old woman named Naomi Drake, who was found behind a dumpster in an alley of a night club. The other, thirty-nine year old Harry Sowers, died in the bathroom of a different club all the way on the other side of town. Both had significant blood loss, but there was no blood at the scene."

When Blaine glanced up, though, Kurt was staring past his shoulder. Blaine turned around, but only saw a small group of friends. They were dressed in black and listening intently to small Asian woman with blue streaks in her black hair. Another Asian, a tall, thin man with strong arms, held her protectively against his waist. She continued talking, waving her arms frantically.

"They keep looking at us," Kurt said. And he was right. Every so often, one member of the group would turn around and stare at them before diving back into whatever argument they were having. It was mildly unsettling. Blaine tried to ignore them when Kurt looked back at the map.

He watched Kurt study the map. Kurt chewed the inside of the bottom lip and narrowed his eyes, like he did when he was thinking hard about something. "I don't get it."

"What?"

"This!" Kurt waved at the marks. "I think we can assume they are related if only because of the lack of blood, but why would a vampire go after a cow? Especially with such a large source of humans so close by. What came first?"

"The cows," Blaine said. "Well, the pattern was three cows, a human, a cow, a human, a cow." It really didn't make sense actually. And Kurt saw it right away.

"See, it's just weird. If you can get humans, why eat the cows?"

"Less fat?"

"Hilarious, Blaine." Kurt frowned, though. "Can vampires live off of animal blood?"

Well that was an interesting question. Blaine was baffled. Vampires were only just recently been active again; centuries of hunters had driven them nearly to the brink of extinction. Blaine honestly didn't know a whole lot about them, other than the few facts his father had bothered to leave him with.

"I don't know. All I know is that vampires are vicious killing machines that like to drink human blood; blood from a dead body is toxic to them; and that stakes are useless. You gotta cut off their heads." Blaine felt eyes watching him. When he turned around the Asian girl was looking at him, but she quickly turned away. "Look Kurt," Blaine lowered his voice. He really didn't want the other patrons to be suspicious. "I don't know why the cattle are dying, but that's not my concern. Our job is to find the vampires that killed the people and kill them. End of story." He began folding up the map.

"That's a little heartless, isn't it? What if—"

"Kurt, they're vampires, not misunderstood children. They kill people, we kill them. Easy." Blaine shoved their stuff into the duffel. He wasn't a heartless person. But hunting was hard enough without having to stop and discuss the morals behind every creature. "Come on, Kurt. Let's look up some stuff at the room."

Kurt seemed a little unhappy, but followed Blaine outside with little protest.

* * *

><p>While Blaine went to get the car, Kurt waited by the door with their bag. It had rained earlier, and Kurt flat out refused to walk through mud without proper footwear. Thankfully, all he had to do was pout a little and ask please and Blaine caved. Such a sweetheart.<p>

Leaning against the side of the building, Kurt bit at his fingernail. Honestly, he was a little worried about sleeping tonight. The nightmares were scaring him, but he really didn't need another reason for Blaine to worry and consider leaving him. No. He'd deal with them on his own.

Kurt was thinking too hard about his dreams to notice when a large presence appeared next to him.

"Well, look at this. A fairy sighting."

Oh Christ. Kurt froze, eyes dragging up the huge frame of Dave Karofsky. Well, wasn't this perfect. What the fuck was this asshole even doing here? His black double was nowhere to be seen. Karofsky was grinning in a very unsettling way and Kurt tried to suppress a shudder. Maybe sass would scare him off.

"Oh, it's you," he drawled, trying to sound uninterested. "Thought I smelled utter failure and sweat."

Karofsky's face darkened. Mustering up every bit of courage, Kurt ignored him. Showing weakness to the hunter could only end badly, and Kurt's instincts were going haywire. Where the fuck was Blaine?

"You've got a lot of nerve, fag," Karafosky leaned in and hissed into Kurt's ear.

His hot breath against Kurt's face sent cold fear down Kurt's spine. Kurt was suddenly aware of how much bigger than him Karofsky was, and how close he stood to Kurt's body. He was shoved backwards around the corner of the building into a dark alley. Karofsky pushed him up against the wall, holding Kurt's chest in place with a thick arm.

"You think you can parade around us hunters dressed that that?" Karofsky snarled. Kurt was completely lost. He knew he wore tighter clothes than most hunters, but he wasn't nearly as bad as he'd been in New York. No bondage shorts or leather harnesses at least. "With your skinny jeans and shit?" Karofsky tugged off Kurt's scarf harshly, nearly ripping the fabric.

And ok. Now Kurt was terrified. "Karofsky," He tried not to hyperventilate, but the other hunter was pressed up tight against Kurt's body and he couldn't move at all. "Karofsky, get off of me." Memories of another incident were trying to come to the surface but Kurt pushed them down. Now was not the time for PTSD. Karfosky was breathing heavily and started grinding his hips into Kurt's and fuck no this wasn't happening. Then Karofsky's mouth was on the space between his neck and his shoulder and was biting and sucking and FUCK NO.

Kurt brought up his hand and punched the side of Karofsky's face with a sizable amount of force. "Let me go!" he shouted, but Karofsky just growled and caught Kurt's hand, pinning it against the wall. His other hand let go of Kurt's chest and pressed tightly against Kurt's mouth, muffling his screams.

_Can't move just like before oh god oh god no that was a long time ago it won't happen again I won't let it why is he doing this oh my god where's Blaine someone find us I can't get away oh my god lips TONGUE get off get offgetoffGETOFFICAN'TBREATHE_

The heavy weight suddenly lifted and Kurt drew in a shaky breath, coughing. He looked up just in time to see the young Asian woman from inside the bar hurling Karofsky into the ground. She had a fire in her brown eyes, and she glared at Karofsky's prone form.

"The—the fuck, man?" Karofsky sputtered, stumbling to his feet. Kurt's knees almost gave at out the look Karofsky shot at him but he stood tall. Memories kept trying to surface and Kurt fought to keep his eyes dry.

"Never. Touch me. Again." He got out in a harsh whisper. The woman stood next to him, daring Karofsky to respond.

"I think you should leave." She stated. Kurt was surprised. She had such a sweet voice it was strange to reconcile it with the image of her throwing around a huge hunter.

Karofsky seemed to think he could take her, but at that moment—

"Kurt? Kurt, where the hell are you? Kurt! Kur—oh." Blaine stood at the end of the alley. Never had Kurt been so happy to see that mess of dark curls. Karofsky took one last look at Kurt, and walked away, pushing past Blaine with a harsh shove.

Blaine watched him go, then turned back to Kurt. "What just happened? Why was he here?" He finally really looked at Kurt. Blaine's voice softened. "Hey, you're white. And shaking. Are you alright…?"

Flinging his arms around Blaine, Kurt breathed in his scent, trying to forget what just went down. But he wouldn't cry. No. Even though his breath was hitching like he might. Blaine smoothed down his hair and held him. "Hey, hey, it's ok. You're ok, Kurt," Blaine murmured into his ear. And god, Kurt just held tighter.

"That man was hurting him. Kurt, your name is?" the woman spoke after a few minutes. Kurt finally pulled away, wiping away the few stray tears. Blaine still had a look of confusion but now it was heading towards anger.

"Yeah. I'm Kurt." Kurt held out his hand. "Thank you so much. If you hadn't…" Kurt's throat closed up.

The woman just smiled, her eyes crinkling up. "Glad I could help. My name's Tina."

Kurt felt his face responding. "Nice to meet you, Tina." He shook her hand delicately.

"I'm Blaine." Blaine cut in. "Does anyone want to tell me what actually happened?"

How to tell him? Kurt felt sick. But this wasn't something he should hide. Karofsky was dangerous. And clearly deep in the closet. Kurt took a few deep breaths, Tina squeezing his hand reassuringly.

"Um, Karofsky kind of…um," Kurt swallowed hard. "He…kissed me." There. That was enough, right? Blaine didn't really need to know about everything else. No, just the kiss. But Tina was glaring.

"He was doing a hell of lot more, Kurt." She snapped.

Kurt tried not to look at Blaine, but he saw his friend's face drain white. God, this was so embarrassing. He hated being so weak. Kurt snatched his scarf off the ground, dusting it off. He was about to put it back on when Blaine's hand stopped him. Kurt froze when Blaine's fingers brushed lightly over the dark hickey on Kurt's neck.

Blaine's eyes suddenly darkened. "I'm going to kill him." He said; voice dangerously calm. He took out his spare gun from his jacket and cocked it, obviously ready to kick some ass.

Shit. No. Karofsky could break Blaine like a twig. He flung out a hand to stop him. "No, Blaine, wait—stop!" Blaine ripped his arm out of Kurt's hands and spun around, heading for the street. Unfortunately, his manly storm off was interrupted by a trash can lid lying on the ground. With a yelp, Blaine tripped over it and face planted.

"My hero," Kurt said sarcastically, Tina giggling. He helped a furiously blushing Blaine up. "Hey you're bleeding. Did you hit your mouth on the ground or something?"

"Yeah," Blaine wiped the blood off his mouth, grimacing. Kurt winced when he used his jacket sleeve to stem the rest. Tina stood stock-still, eyes locked on Blaine's mouth. She seemed to be transfixed, chest heaving as she breathed shallowly.

"Are you ok?" Kurt asked, a little nervous. This was a strange reaction, but maybe she just hated the sight of blood. But the way she stared…

Tina gasped and shuddered and shut her eyes tightly. Her nose flared though, as if she smelled something irresistible. Then her mouth opened and oh wow.

Kurt's eyes widened at the sight of dozens of thin sharp fangs erupted over her normal sized teeth. He just gaped at her, but Blaine's reflexes were better. He shoved Kurt behind him, aiming the gun at Tina, who doubled over and breathed harshly.

"Give me—a minute—to explain," she gasped out.

Blaine had other thoughts on his mind. "Why the fuck should we do that?" he snarled. "You're a vampire. I should just waste you while I can." He shrugged off Kurt's hand on his shoulder.

"So why don't you?" she countered.

Narrowing his eyes, Blaine readied his stance. "You saved my best friend. That's the only reason you're still breathing. Or existing. Or whatever."

Tina finally managed to control herself. Her fangs retreated, and she straightened up. Fixing her hair, she eyed Blaine calmly. "First of all, that gun is useless and you know it." Blaine let out an indignant sound, but kept the gun up. Tina sighed. "Look, I need to talk to you two. Yes, I am a vampire. But my coven and I don't feed on humans. While animal blood is undesirable, it works. And it keeps hunters like you away from us." She suddenly looked very tired. Kurt felt himself pitying her. She was only trying to exist. Tina began again. "There's a rogue vampire around here. We can't find it. And I know it's not one of mine. We need your help." She held up a hand. "Truce?"

Blaine glance at it disdainfully. "Why should I trust a word you say?"

"Well you're still alive, aren't you?" Tina kept her hand out. "I could have just walked away when I smelled Kurt's fear. But I stayed and helped. If I'd wanted you dead, you both would be wasted faster that you could blink.

Her story made sense. It fit it with the cattle slaughter and human deaths. Kurt put his hands on Blaine's tense shoulders. "I think we should listen to her," he whispered into Blaine's ear. Blaine stiffened, but lowered the gun. Grudgingly, he shook her hand.

"I still don't trust you," Blaine said. "The instant I think you're messing with me and Kurt, I'll kill you."

Tina smiled. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

* * *

><p>The party had been a massive failure. Logan Smith hoped he would be going home with Amy, but she took one look at him and kissed the nearest guy passionately. Why did women hold grudges for so long? It'd been two weeks and she was still mad. Whore.<p>

Logan kicked a piece of trash and drew his coat in closer. He hadn't really noticed how cold Halling was tonight. Or dark. Jesus, didn't anybody check the streetlights? Like half of them were knocked out. Tax dollars at work, every one.

He suddenly stumbled over a loose beer can and nearly fell, swearing loudly. Maybe he'd had too many drinks tonight. Logan glared at the can. No, he deserved to drink after watching his ex make out with that blonde douchebag all night.

Logan was still thinking about various ways to get back at Amy when a scream ripped through the deserted streets. For a moment, Logan thought he imagined it, but then there was another one. Somehow, he managed to stay upright as he ran down the street, head pounding. Oh, he definitely drank too much.

Finally, he found the source of the screams. Down a small alley lit faintly by a streetlight, a small woman was surrounded by several large men, one of whom had her purse. She was pretty, all legs and a thin dress. The men resembled what Logan thought of as punks. All black leather and spikes. One of them had long black hair tied back in a braid. They caught sight of him swaying in the alley's entrance and laughed.

Well, that wasn't cool. Logan Smith was not a joke. He drew himself up, trying to seem more intimidating than his preppy coat and slacks suggested.

"Leave her alone!" Hey, his voice wasn't even slurred! Logan felt proud of himself for about a second until the group of men began walking towards him, still grinning. Maybe this was a bad idea. "I mean it. Didn't your mothers ever teach you to treat ladies right?" Logan stood, refusing to budge. Besides, if he got beaten up, Amy would have to talk to him and she'd feel so guilty. It was win-win right? He eyed the largest of the punks' hands. They looked strong. _Shit._

But they were stopping. "Well, you've convinced us. Come on boys; let's find more prey for the night." Braid-Head waved the pack on, flashing a last look at Logan as he turned the corner. For some reason, Logan had a weird feeling that they were mocking him. Or secretly laughing at him. But then the harassed woman was pressed up against his side and trailing her long fingers up his face.

"You saved me, you sweetie," she purred. Her eyes were a deep brown and blinked seductively, staring up at him through her eyelashes.

Looks like Logan was getting laid tonight after all.

He smiled at her, appreciating her many curves and mile-long legs. God, those legs. Logan tried to think of something witty and manly to say but then she was pulling him down by his collar and kissing his neck. It was the most amazing thing Logan had ever felt. Her lips and tongue were incredible, holy shit. He gasped, feeling his blood running south when—

"OW! The fuck?" He pushed her away, clamping a hand to his neck. She licked her lips and smiled maliciously. His neck felt wet. Logan pulled his hand away, inspecting it in the faint light. It was covered in blood and his neck hurt like hell. "Crazy bitch!" What the fuck was even going on? He saves this chick from certain robbery and maybe death, and she practically rips his neck apart. He stared at her incredulously.

The woman giggled. "You taste good enough. Maybe a little alcoholic, but beggars can't be picky, right?" She slinked up next to him. Logan tried to back away but his back hit a wall of solid flesh. Braid-Head was back. Along with his friends.

_The fucking hell?_

"He's good, boys. Take your fill." She smiled again, only now Logan could see all of her teeth. They were numerous, long, thin, and most definitely fangs. Numbly, Logan looked up at Braid-Head. More fangs.

Logan had enough time to scream once before five sets of fangs sank into his body.

* * *

><p>"I don't like this." Blaine grumbled. He was blindfolded and in the backseat of a car driven by vampires to go to said vampire's nest. With Kurt next to him. Though Kurt was allowed to be unrestrained and unblindfolded, according to Tina after a quick private discussion. The whole situation was fucked up and Blaine's nerves were stretched to the breaking point.<p>

After Blaine agreed to hear Tina out about her rogue vampire problem, she'd whistled and suddenly there were six strong vampires surrounding them. And then she'd smiled guiltily and asked them to let he tie them up and blind fold them to take them back to the nest.

Like Blaine had a choice. Who'd say no to seven vampires when armed with only a gun?

Vampires. And Karofsky. Plus Kurt was keeping secrets again, and Blaine hated it. There were altogether too many secrets going around these days. The car hit a particularly large bump and Blaine pitched into Kurt, swearing loudly. He felt hands gently tug him upright.

"Jesus, Mike, they're just humans. Feel free to knock them around a little." That was the driver, Blaine was pretty sure. A big ugly guy with a shaved head and tattoos everywhere. He tried to peer out from under the coarse fabric of the blind fold, but Tina tied it too tight.

Mike was talking. "They haven't done anything to us, Brandon. We need to get along with hunters and humans if we are to survive longer than a decade now." Mike was Tina's mate, they told Blaine and Kurt. He seemed nice enough. A tall, thin Asian, he had continually asked if they were comfortable while the rest of the group scoffed and snorted.

"How much longer?" Blaine snapped. His wrists hurt and he was itching for something sharp in his hands. Blaine felt naked without so much as a penknife within easy reaching distance. When neither of the vampires answered, Blaine kicked the back of the seat in front of him savagely.

The driver swore and likely would have ripped Blaine to pieces if he didn't have to focus on the road. Too bad. Blaine was rapidly getting pissed off at all the secrets. No one would say where they were going or why they needed Blaine and Kurt specifically or how they even knew Blaine and Kurt were hunters (honestly he was a little worried about that last point) or why he had to be restrained but Kurt didn't and Blaine felt an urge to punch something. Except his hands were also tied. Fucking undead parasites.

A soft voice was at his ear. "Blaine, you've got to calm down. Just be patient, alright?" Kurt. Oh and he wasn't off the hook either.

"We're talking about everything when we get released. If we get released." Blaine glared in front of him. Even though the blindfold hid most of it, he hoped the gist got through.

"Of course you're getting released. We aren't kidnapping you." Mike said soothingly.

"So what, the blind fold and tied hands are just for shits and giggles?" Blaine struggled with the bonds again, eliciting a sigh from Kurt. "Into some kinky shit are you?"

Kurt elbowed him harshly. "God, Blaine, shut up! Maybe you should stop trying to intentionally antagonize the people who literally control whether we live or die, yes?"

"The blindfolds are kind of unnecessary. If you promise not to bite me, I'll take them off." Mike waited a second before Blaine nodded grudgingly.

When the blindfold fell off, Blaine fixed Mike with the angriest look he possibly could. He doubted it was on Kurt's level, though. The boy could make Blaine feel like he was ten years old and stole the last cookie from the cookie jar.

"I have to leave the ropes on though," Mike smiled apologetically. "It's to make the rest of the coven feel safe. We haven't had the greatest of relations with hunters in the past."

"Wonder why," Blaine muttered, then winced when Kurt kicked his shin.

"Play nice." Kurt hissed at him.

They finally pulled up to an abandoned warehouse. It was fairly large and rusty as hell, but looked study enough. A vampire emerged from the shadows to unlock a large door, and they drove inside. Gas lamps in various places around the warehouse gave them enough light to see the hammocks and sleeping bags in one corner and a fire pit in the other.

Brandon put the car and park and got up, opening Blaine's door and yanking him out on the floor none too gently. Blaine spit out some dirt and shot an angry glare, but decided fighting back could only end badly. Two more black cars pulled up and Tina got out of one, yelling at Brandon. Blaine was trying to stand up with his hands tied and suddenly Kurt was there, kneeling next to him.

"Blaine, please, _please_ listen to me. Tina's pissed at Brandon for dumping you on the floor, but she needs us to be cooperative because some of the vampires are eyeing us and I don't want to be dead forever ok?" Kurt helped him stand up. "Plus I don't like wearing leather all the time. It doesn't breathe, Blaine!"

Honestly, Kurt probably had a point. They needed to be careful now. Blaine had never fought with vampires before, but his father had and said they were smart, cunning, and extremely vicious. Pissing them off would only endanger Kurt more and Blaine would never do that. Ever.

So. Time for "Dapper Blaine."

Tina walked over to them. Blaine was surprised to see exhaustion and stress in her eyes. Everything he'd been told about vampires indicated complete sociopathic tendencies and lack of empathy for human beings. But Tina actually looked worried.

"There was another attack tonight. I just found out." she sighed, tugging on a lock of hair. "God. Look, I promise you it wasn't us. These all listen to me. We don't usually hunt each other and we know most of what to look for but when you two showed up…" Tina seemed to notice that Blaine was still restrained. "Crap, I forgot. Mike, untie him. We don't have to fear Blaine."

A few of the vampires growled at this, but Mike bared his fangs and they settled down pretty quickly. Once freed, Blaine kept up his gentlemanly air, hands clasped in front of him and a look of attentiveness on his face. Kurt was eying him funny, but kept silent. Tina motioned to the fire pit where there were some chairs and throw rugs.

"We can talk more there. Just relax. And Gabe," Tina turned to a small blond vampire with cowboy boots and a tight black button-down that was none too subtly checking Kurt out. "Hands to yourself. Leave Kurt alone." Gabe sulked, but didn't move his eyes. Kurt slid a little closer to Blaine.

Once they were seated (Blaine took a chair and perched on the edge, tense, and made Kurt sit next to him. Mike and Tina faced them, and the rest of the coven found various watching places.

The silence was really uncomfortable. Tina sat chewing her nails, and Blaine imagined the gears turning in her head. He felt the eyes of nine vampires watching him and Kurt and Blaine thought that this was what being cornered felt like. They were completely at the mercy of these bloodthirsty heathens. Christ, he should have just wasted them earlier.

Next to him, Blaine felt Kurt shift. "Alright this is very dramatic and everything, but can we please move on? I want a shower at some point tonight and a decent amount of sleep." Kurt gave a crooked smile. "Also I would like to say, Tina, I am impressed with your gothic chic. Tasteful, yet not over done." When Tina giggled, Blaine was still confused but respected Kurt's tactics. Obviously, Tina was the leader, and getting on her good side was the key to escaping this mess.

"You are a sweetheart," Tina winked at Kurt. "I guess we do need to explain some things to you."

"No shit," Blaine said under his breath then hissed in pain when Kurt punched his shoulder. "You're abusive." He sulked.

"And you're a loveable idiot. Now shut up, Blaine."

Kurt thought he was 'loveable'? Blaine tried to hide his grin but Tina was snickering. Honestly, this vampire chick behaved more like a giggling schoolgirl than the leader of a band of savage predators.

"Anyway, if the lovebirds are done—" Blaine opened his mouth to correct her but kept quiet at Kurt's glare. Tina kept talking. "We came to Halling about three weeks ago. There are a lot of ranches around here so we figured we'd hang around for a few weeks before moving on, but then people started dying. And then those other hunters showed up—"

"'Other hunters'?" Blaine interrupted.

"The one that um, attacked Kurt. And his friend." Tina shuddered. "Big black guy. They were just…awful." Several vampires nodded in agreement. One, a thin woman with bright purple hair snarled and spat. "They killed Victor and Sammy a few nights ago," Tina whispered. "We were trying to contact them like we did with you and it seemed to work, but then they came back to our nest and just…destroyed us. We were lucky to get away. This," she waved her arm at the warehouse. "This is supposed to be temporary. We'd leave, but those two would just track us down and we thought maybe you could help us." She looked at them nervously.

Well, fuck. "I don't—God." Blaine groaned and rubbed his face with both hands. "I don't know what you want us to do. We can't control Karofsky and Azimio. As you've already seen, they hate us. I'm still not entirely sold on your whole non-human diet anyway," there were a few growls at that, "and why do you care so much about a vampire killing people anyway? I mean it's just doing what you normally do."

Tina considered him for a moment. "We need that vampire taken care of. It's been following us for several towns. We just want to live, and every time it decides to murder we run the risk of a hunter finding us and destroying us. A few cattle die; no big deal. But humans? Suddenly the entire world is hunting us down. While animal blood isn't ideal, it works. We're just trying to live." Mike squeezed her shoulder.

"Can you please try to help us?" he asked gently.

Blaine was torn. He grew up on stories of how awful vampires were and how they had no mercy and yet here was an entire coven literally begging for his help. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Blaine saw Kurt looking at him expectantly. Kurt wasn't born in the hunting lifestyle. He had no idea the kinds of deep-rooted prejudices hunters had. Time. Blaine needed time.

"Can we think about this?" he finally said. Kurt narrowed his eyes but Blaine ignored them. "I just…need to think."

The purple-haired vampire scoffed. "Are you guys kidding? We're asking help from Blaine Anderson. Michael Anderson's son! Of course he won't help us; he'll probably find the others and then come back armed with more machetes and murder all of us!" She paced around the fire pit, arms waving wildly.

"I won't," Blaine put in hurriedly, suddenly nervous at all the nods of agreements at the vampire's speech. Tina was getting angry. "I won't attack like that. If I decide not to help, I'll at least tell you to your face."

Tina hissed at the other vampire. "Myra, sit your bitch ass down! Blaine," she changed tone, but kept glaring at Myra, "Your father has a um…an undesirable reputation among vampires. We are going to let you go as a sign of good faith." Her eyes silently dared anyone to challenge her. She walked over to Kurt and handed him a piece of paper. "When you decide, please call us. We want this over with. If we don't hear from you by tomorrow night, we're leaving. And we'll just try again." Suddenly Tina looked exhausted, and Mike was instantly at her side. Blaine wondered for a moment exactly how old she really was. He also wondered what it'd be like to have someone around all the time that loved you and knew you better than you knew yourself. Blaine remembered that vampires mate for life, but this was a different kind of love. It seemed more real than the love most of the living couples he knew had.

Mike pressed a quick kiss to the top of Tina's head before moving away. "I'll drive you two back now," he said, waving the keys. Blaine just nodded, head still reeling.

* * *

><p>Blaine was silent during the drive back to the bar and again on the ride to the motel. By now, Kurt knew when to let Blaine just sit and think. Pushing would only irritate Blaine further and cause him to yell at Kurt and then Kurt would have to spend hours convincing Blaine that no, he wasn't mad and yes, he forgave Blaine. And Blaine would still mope around like a shamed puppy for hours.<p>

Whatever his parents did to him, Blaine seriously had no idea how to let loose. Sometimes complete bitchfests were therapeutic.

When they finally stepped inside the room, it was around three and Kurt was exhausted. His feet hurt and his hair was destroyed. Memories of Karofsky crowded back now that he wasn't distracted by vampires (vampires!), and Kurt shut his eyes tightly against the deluge. Taking a few deep breaths, Kurt hurried into the bathroom with his overnight night bag without saying anything to Blaine. Hopefully he'd get the hint.

The bathroom was decent. Fairly clean, a few rust stains but nothing Kurt couldn't handle by now. The mirror actually looked polished. In the harsh light, Kurt began yanking off his clothes, shivering in the cold air. By habit he glanced in the mirror and gasped aloud at the sight.

Honestly, it hadn't felt that bad in the alley but Kurt's skin marked easy; he'd known that for years. But seeing the dark mark on the side of his neck from Karofsky's mouth made Kurt gag. He reached up and prodded it, inhaling sharply at the sudden flash of pain. Bastard.

Kurt felt his pulse quickening. Shit. He hadn't had these kinds of flashbacks in years. Breathing deeply, Kurt sat on the toilet with his head between his knees. Flashes of the alley mixed in with high school kept running through Kurt's mind and suddenly hated himself for being so weak and so used and dirty and he knew he was going to sick.

He scrambled up to get the toilet cover up and heaved into the bowl, coughing at the acidic bile. There was no way Blaine didn't hear that, Kurt thought ruefully as he flushed away his stomach contents. Sure enough, a knock at the door confirmed his suspicions.

"Kurt? You ok?" God, Blaine sounded so worried. But Kurt couldn't face him yet.

"Yeah." Kurt stood up gingerly, hoping he could keep down the rest of his dinner.

"You don't sound good," Blaine said through the door.

There was definitely going to be a conversation about this. Blaine and his "talks." It was nice, though. To actually talk. Usually if he and Jesse were arguing they'd just have sex and bam, problem solved. Except it wasn't. At least Blaine seemed to really care.

"Is this about Karofsky?"

Blaine Anderson was entirely too perceptive for his own good.

"Blaine," Kurt said, then stopped. He couldn't face Blaine right now. He needed to take control of himself first. But he was going to talk. Kurt promised himself. "I just need to shower. I'll explain later."

* * *

><p>The lights were still on when Kurt finally came out of the bathroom, dressed in comfort clothes. He toweled his hair dry, thinking absently that he had to get it cut soon. Blaine would probably do it for him if he asked, but Kurt wasn't sure he trusted Blaine with a pair of scissors yet. Not after the knife incident.<p>

Blaine was on the bed, sweats and a t-shirt on and reading an old book. He glanced up when Kurt sat down on the edge.

"You feeling alright?"

God, no. But Kurt knew he was done keeping secrets. Other than the nightmares. Those could wait some. "Yeah. Yeah I'm good now. It's just…" Kurt swallowed around the lump that suddenly rose in his throat. _Courage_, he thought to himself. He took a deep breath and met Blaine worried hazel eyes.

Blaine closed the book and sat up, facing Kurt. "If you don't want to tell me yet, I can wait." He said gently. Oh, damn, why was he so perfect?

"No. No, I need to tell you. Just give me a second." Kurt tried to organize his thoughts. "I don't know what school was like for you. I was stuck in a public high school in Ohio and I'm pretty damn flamboyant. There was no hiding who I was so I was out and proud. The only out kid in my school." Kurt knew he sounded bitter, but Blaine needed to know.

"I was moved around a lot." Blaine said. "A new school every few months. I didn't advertise my sexuality, and I was bullied a bit for being the new kid, but it always died down once everyone realized I could take care of myself. And if anyone found out I was gay, we were back on the road before it became a serious problem."

Kurt nodded, trying not to be jealous. "There was a group of football players that made my life miserable. And I was in glee club, which made it worse. I spent a lot of time in dumpsters, being shoved into lockers, having slushies thrown at me…" Kurt almost stopped at the sight of Blaine's face. "God, Blaine, that's just the way things were back then."

He started when Blaine found his hand and rubbed soothing circles on the back of his palm. "What about your glee club? Didn't they help?"

Right. Glee. Kurt laughed bitterly. "Of course not. I mean. They did try, some of them. But they were already on the bottom of the social ladder and standing up for me would have put them in the sub-basement. Plus they had other dramas, and I was too stubborn to ask for help." He heard Blaine make a noise of agreement and elbowed him. "Shut up. Anyway. Um. Junior year, it got pretty bad. One football player in particular started really laying into me any chance he got. And one day…I snapped. He shoved me into a locker so hard I fell, and I just couldn't take it anymore. So I ran after him into the locker room."

Kurt started breathing harshly. This was the part of the story he wasn't sure if he could make it through. He couldn't even look at Blaine; didn't want to see the look of revulsion he'd probably get when he finished. Instead, he focused on the other bed's comforter. He could even smell the locker room: the stench of sweat, old gym socks, acrid deodorant. _Calm down. You can do this._ Blaine squeezed his hand.

"Kurt?"

"I'm fine. I'm fine." Kurt released his breath, but still didn't meet Blaine's eyes. "In the locker room, I just let loose. You know what I get like. I just started screaming at him to leave me the fuck alone, that I was gay and he couldn't change me, and that I wasn't at all attracted to him so he didn't have to worry about that and then," Kurt squeezed his eyes shut. "He kissed me."

Blaine sucked in a harsh breath. "God, Kurt," he breathed, and Kurt felt tears prickling at the corner of his eyes because Blaine didn't know the rest of the story. Blaine must have noticed because he stopped stroking Kurt's hands. "Oh shit, Kurt. Please tell me that's all."

Kurt shook his head slowly, tears finally spilling over. "Fuck," he muttered, swiping at his eyes angrily. It's been nearly five years; he should be over this shit already. "I wasn't—not—not all the way." Kurt finally said. He felt Blaine sigh with relief next to him. "After he kissed me, I pushed him away. It was my first kiss, you know? And it was with a sweaty, closeted homophobe. He got—he got angry, and he tried t-t-to force me and I fought like hell but he was just so much bigger and he held me down and I couldn't move or breathe and his hand was on m-m-me and—" Kurt let out a gasping sob. God, he was such a mess. He had to pull himself together. Blaine pulled his hand away. That scared the shit out of Kurt, and all of his old insecurities about being unclean and tainted came running back. There wasn't much left though, so he pressed on. "When he shifted to try to undo the button on my pants, I kneed him in his crotch. I thought…I thought I could get away, but he just got really angry and started punching just…_everything_ he could reach. He told me I deserved it, that I was a cocktease for wearing what I wore and that by being a faggot I was a slut and a whore and I deserved everything—"

"Please stop," Blaine interrupted, looking stricken. "Just—just stop calling yourself those things. I can't listen to that."

Kurt looked at Blaine, but nodded slightly. "Anyway, I was screaming by that point and the coach heard us and found him beating me. I was in the hospital for a few weeks. He broke four of my ribs, my collarbone, and twisted my shoulder when he held me down. He was expelled, but he told everyone I came on to _him_, so it just got worse and worse. But Dad couldn't afford to send me to another school and we couldn't prove anything so I just stayed and dealt with it." When Blaine didn't say anything, Kurt took another deep breath. "I was in therapy for a while. Going to New York for college helped. It's been a long time but stuff like that never really leaves you, you know?" He didn't wait for Blaine to answer. "Today just brought back a lot of bad memories. I think I'm ok for now though." _Please don't hate me._

Blaine still hadn't said anything. Kurt felt the tears come back. A small voice in the back of his head laughed cruelly and told Kurt that it was over, Blaine would never want to be with him after that, that Kurt was used and tainted and disgusting, that no one would ever love him—

"Did you tell Jesse?" Blaine suddenly asked.

Weird question. Kurt sniffled and ran a hand through his damp hair. "No. I didn't." Hell no, he hadn't told Jesse. That pompous jackass wouldn't have understood.

"He was your boyfriend for over a year and he never knew?" Blaine sounded shocked.

"I didn't want to." Kurt snapped, scrubbing at his eyes and cursing his tear ducts. "He'd have left me. I was so unclean and disgusting after Murdoch. No one ever would want me if they knew." Kurt shifted guiltily. "…I told Jesse I was a virgin when he asked about why I was so terrified of sex. And yeah he pushed a little," more like a lot, "but I got over it. I'm fine. More fucked up than you thought, but fine." He finished in a whisper. Please let him be fine.

Kurt wrapped his arms around his waist and tried not to cry. He just wanted a hug. Really. He'd deal with vampires tomorrow, but right now, he just wanted Blaine to put his arms around him and tell him that everyone was going to be alright. He'd never see Karofsky or Murdoch again and if he did, well, Blaine could teach him to protect himself.

But Blaine still wasn't looking at him and his hands were pressed up tight against his mouth, like when Blaine was thinking heavily. His eyes kept blinking rapidly and lit on everything but Kurt and Kurt felt like crying again.

He wouldn't, though. He'd done enough crying over Murdoch nearly five years ago, and Karofsky wasn't worth another second of Kurt's life. Kurt decided a long time ago that he would not let that locker room define his life and if Blaine could handle it, Kurt would deal. Like he'd done after mom died, after the bullying started and especially after leaving with Blaine. Kurt was a survivor.

"Goodnight, Blaine." Kurt finally whispered, squeezing Blaine's leg and standing up. Blaine needed time, he figured. It was a lot to happen in one day.

Blaine suddenly grabbed Kurt's arm and pulled him back to the bed. "You aren't fucked up. Well, maybe a little. But everyone is, in their own way." Blaine's eyes got hard and serious. "Listen, Kurt. 'Cause I mean this. You're the most amazing person I've ever met. You're wonderful and compassionate and loyal and bitchy and stubborn, but I love it." He gripped Kurt's hand tightly, swallowing hard. "You're perfect how you are. And someday, someone is going to realize that and want to be with you because you deserve that happiness."

_I'm happy with you_.

"And please promise me you won't call yourself…_those_ names anymore." Blaine continued. He actually looked a little queasy. "They don't fit you. You didn't deserve what happened then, and you certainly didn't deserve what happened today," Blaine's face darkened at the thought of Karofsky. "I'm going to kill him if I ever see that fucker again."

"Murder's illegal."

"Then I'll shoot his balls off. _He'd_ deserve it." When Kurt felt his eyes burning with tears again, he sniffed. Loudly. Instantly, Blaine wrapped his arms around him. "It's gonna be alright Kurt."

Kurt full-on sobbed at that. "You're an incredibly sweet person, Blaine. You shouldn't be real. Guys like you don't exist outside fairy tales."

"Sure we do. You just gotta look." Blaine let Kurt cry for a little while longer. "I don't like secrets. They just fester and stew forever until they explode. So thank you for telling me. No more secrets, ok?" He released Kurt and pushed him away just far enough that he could look directly in Kurt's eyes. "Ok?"

Kurt knew he was thinking about the dreams. But he wasn't ready to talk about them. "Right. No more secrets." Kurt smiled weakly. "But…" he took a deep breath, "I don't want to discuss my dreams just yet. I will. I promise. Just not right now. It's not a big deal and they might go away."

His answer didn't completely satisfy Blaine, but thankfully Blaine let the subject drop. He squeezed Kurt's hand again.

"Ok. Vampires in the morning?"

"Vampires in the morning." Kurt agreed.

Blaine hesitated. "Hey. D'you wanna, um. Do you wanna sleep with me? You look like you could use cuddles."

Kurt felt a genuine smile spread on his face. "I really could use cuddles." He slid under the covers with Blaine, who turned off the light.

He had no idea what he and Blaine were. Not boyfriends. They weren't dating. But they were definitely closer than friends. Not quite brothers, though. It was just complicated. Blaine's arm slid across Kurt's side and tugged close to his body.

"Hey Blaine?"

"Mmm?" Blaine was half asleep by this point.

"Thank you," Kurt whispered.

* * *

><p>Trying to open the door with a tray of coffee and a bag of bagels was a feat, but somehow Blaine managed it. Kurt was still sleeping when he walked in, so he shut the door as quietly as possible and put breakfast on the small table before sitting at the foot of the bed. It was rare for Blaine to wake up before Kurt so he took the time to study him.<p>

Oh God, Blaine was a creep.

Kurt had kicked the covers mostly off, and was sprawled across the bed on his stomach. He clutched Blaine's pillow and buried his face in it.

He was too cute. Blaine noticed Kurt's shirt had ridden up a bit and was about to tug it down when he saw the edge of faint scar. Deciding that Kurt was pretty out of it, Blaine pushed the shirt up a little farther. The thin scar line began at the end of Kurt's ribs and twisted up and around to his front. It must have been from the broken ribs. Maybe they had to operate because of internal bleeding? Blaine stroked the scar lightly, frowning when he realized he could feel Kurt's ribs easily. He'd have to make Kurt eat more. No one could survive on lettuce and sass alone. He covered Kurt up again and studied his face. Kurt's face was peaceful, but there were still dark circles under his eyes. Poor kid.

"'Mm fine." Kurt mumbled, startling Blaine. He cracked one eye open and smiled at him.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you." Blaine poked his side, avoiding Kurt's half-hearted swipes. "But it's almost noon, so time to wake up! I got coffee and bagels."

"Mmargh." Kurt groaned and yawned loudly. "Sorry. Didn't mean to sleep so late." He smiled gratefully when Blaine pressed a cup of coffee in his hands. "Thanks," he said taking a sip.

"Welcome. And don't be. You needed the rest." Blaine noticed that Kurt didn't disagree. "No nightmares last night?" he asked cautiously.

Kurt shook his head. "Nope. I'm kind of surprised, actually. After yesterday and all. But no, I slept really well." He got up and walked over to the bagels, picking out an everything bagel and a packet of cream cheese.

"I am shocked. Kurt Hummel eating carbs?" Blaine held his hand over his forehead dramatically. "I might faint."

"Shut up." Kurt lightly kicked him when Blaine got close enough. They sat at the table in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the peace.

After dwelling on it for hours, Blaine still had no idea what to do about the vampires. Sure Tina talked a good game and she had resisted attacking when she saw Blaine's blood but…_still_. She was a vampire. They were all vampires. And vampires just don't change. They don't.

Then there was the whole Karofsky mess. Blaine's knuckles whitened as he squeezed the coffee cup. It had taken everything to not storm out of the room last night, find Karofsky, and beat the shit out of him. The only reason he hadn't was because Kurt had still been upset and Blaine couldn't bring himself to leave Kurt alone after that. But if he caught wind of Karofsky, he could not be held responsible for his actions. Blaine vaguely wondered if he should bring Sylvester in on this. She seemed to like Kurt. Hell she might even be able to go after the first guy. Murdoch? Blaine was still musing on various punishment plans when Kurt's foot collided with his shin.

"Ow! Fuck, Kurt, I'm going to have a permanent dent in my leg from all your kicking!" Blaine complained, rubbing his shin.

"Pay attention when I say your name then." Kurt took another long sip from his cup. "First of all, stop think about going after Karofsky."

"How'd you know I was—"

"Because you are painfully transparent." Kurt giggled. "I mean it though," he said, sobering up quickly. "Karofsky will end you."

Blaine scoffed. "I can handle him."

"He'll squish you."

"He won't."

"You're like half his height, shorty. And weight."

That was just unfair. Blaine leaned back in the chair and pouted. "You're being cruel."

"I'm being realistic." Kurt patted his knee. "What we going to do about the vampires?"

The vampires. What was he going to do? "I want to see the bodies first." He said. Maybe that would help him decide.

* * *

><p>Kurt was going to throw up.<p>

He was also going to murder Blaine, who was having way too much fun with this whole situation.

"Thought you said you've been to an autopsy before?" the portly coroner said, looking Kurt up and down. "It's just a liver. Keep holding it for me while I figure out how to get these intestines back in." Kurt forced a weak smile as he watched the elderly man stick his arms deep into the corpse on the autopsy table. The organs squished wetly as he moved his hands, releasing a thicker stench of decay. Kurt fought down his breakfast, glaring at Blaine, who just smiled and held up a pad of paper.

"You're such a good sport, Agent Jones." Blaine said innocently.

With his arms full of liver, Kurt could only shoot him a look that promised pain later. Blaine actually gulped a little and ducked his head.

_Damn right, be afraid, _Kurt thought. He looked at the grayish red-brown organ in his glove-covered hands. Oh god, this was so gross. It was still slippery, and Kurt could feel the smell settling into his favorite Armani suit. Blaine was going to pay for the dry cleaning. That's all there was to it.

The coroner, Dr. Holland, was actually the local funeral home director as well, and didn't seem accustomed to full blown autopsies. Finally, though, he managed to get every in the chest cavity and took the liver from Kurt's hands. Kurt practically ran to the sink in his haste to get the gloves off and his hands under soap.

"I can't thank you enough for doing a rush job on this case for us," Blaine said as the doctor began sewing up Logan Smith. Kurt would never understand how people said the dead looked like they were sleeping. Logan didn't. He just looked dead.

Dr. Holland shrugged. "No problem Agents. Thank you for the help." He sighed and took off his gloves, rubbing his face. "I've been doing this thirty years, and never have we had so many murders. And now three in a few weeks?" He grunted. "Disgusting. Alright, so you want the summary?" Dr. Holland's tone took on an official air.

"Yes, sir." Blaine held a pen in his hand, ready to write. Kurt continued scrubbing his hands. He'd never get the rotting, slightly fruity smell out. Never.

"All three bodies," Dr. Holland walked over the wall with the cadavers and pulled out two tables. "Were found drained of blood." Naomi Drake, a young African-American with long braided hair lay on one, and the other had Harry Sowers, a middle-aged store manager with a beer belly. Kurt noticed how pale their skin was when he walked up next to Blaine. It was unsettling, actually. "There wasn't enough blood at the scene for that to be the kill site, but we can't figure out how the blood was drained in the first place." Dr. Holland pointed to a point on Naomi's neck where Kurt could see a ring of tiny dark circles. "That's the only injury we could find on both. Same place too, just below the left ear. It's say it was a bite, but unless someone has taken to filling every single tooth into a canine, it's just not possible. Now as for Mr. Smith here," he patted Logan's unfeeling arm. "There were more marks. Instead of one circle of marks, there were five." Dr. Holland pointed them out: the neck, the right arm, two on the left arm and one on the inside right thigh.

Blaine nodded as he wrote the information down, but didn't comment.

"No evidence of any other fatal trauma, and a tox screen came back negative for everything. These people died from blood loss but God knows how they did." Dr. Holland glanced up.

Kurt schooled his face into an appropriate solemn look. He certainly knew.

"There's one more thing." Dr. Holland put his hands under Logan and rolled the body onto its side so Kurt and Blaine could see his back. Kurt let out an involuntary gasp.

Etched deep into the flesh was one word: KURT

This was fucked up. Kurt stole a glance at Blaine, but the hunter's face was expressionless.

"Do we know who 'Kurt' is?" Blaine asked, voice steady. How was he so calm? Kurt was freaking out inside.

The doctor shook his head. "Nope. He was straight, according to his ex. You'll have to ask the detectives about it. But whoever this Kurt is…" He traced the angry red cuts. "I'd watch out."

* * *

><p>"Blaine?"<p>

"What?" Blaine shut the motel door behind him forcefully and Kurt cringed at the sudden noise. But he needed answers.

"Why was my name on a dead guy?" There. A straightforward question. Blaine couldn't dodge that, right? And Kurt knew Blaine knew _something_. Either that or he was really freaking out about the whole situation.

He suspected the latter, to be honest.

"I don't know. It might be a coincidence." Kurt shot him a look. "It's possible, Kurt." But Blaine looked unconvinced.

Kurt flopped back on the bed and threw his arm over his eyes. Yeah, the cadaver stench was still there. "My suit smells," he complained. When Blaine didn't answer, Kurt sat up, watching the hunter dig through his duffel for a small book. "Blaine, why don't you like vampires? Tina seems trustworthy. And they're still waiting for our answer."

Blaine looked up at that. "We aren't doing anything with Tina and her gang." Wait what? "We're leaving tonight. Soon as we get that suit dry-cleaned. I don't need dead liver smell to stink up my car."

Oh no. Blaine was not getting out of it that easy. "But why? They still need help, something is still killing people! Just because my name was carved into some vampire's dinner, it doesn't change anything."

"It changes everything, Kurt." Blaine laughed bitterly.

"It might be a coincidence, like you said!"

"There are no such things as 'coincidences' to a hunter." Blaine began finding his scattered clothes across the room and shoving them into a bag. God, he was irritating.

"At least fold them," Kurt snapped, getting really angry. "We can't leave. People are still in danger."

Blaine glanced up at that. "Yes, they are."

Oh for the love of God. "Not me, you asshole! And I don't believe you. The body is why you're running away, maybe, but you weren't planning on working with Tina anyway, were you?" Blaine didn't answer, instead packing Kurt's clothes. Kurt snatched a shirt out of Blaine's hands. "Come on, Blaine! No more secrets, remember?"

"You're one to talk!" Blaine shot right back.

They might have gotten into a huge argument, but right then Blaine's phone rang. Glaring at Kurt, Blaine hit "accept."

"What?" he snapped into the phone.

* * *

><p>Sam blinked and glanced down at his phone, rubbing his ear. "Jesus, Blaine what crawled up your ass?"<p>

"_Don't fuck with me, Sam! Actually, no, this is perfect. You can explain something to me."_

Blaine sounded pissed. Which was never good. Sam and Blaine had known each other for several years, and he'd only pissed Blaine off three times.

None of those three times ended well. Sam winced when he caught sight of his Limited Edition SD Gundam with a spoke broken off. And the bullet hole in the wall he hadn't gotten around to fixing. He really should move. And never tell Blaine his new address. There were too many priceless collectibles in his small house.

But for now: denial.

"'I sense a disturbance in the force.'" Obi Wan. Blaine couldn't get mad at Obi Wan, right?

Wrong.

"_Sam Evans." _Blaine's voice was low and dangerous. Fuck. Had he done anything to piss the hunter off? Sam wracked his brain, trying to figure out why Blaine was so pissed. _"You have two minutes to explain why you sent me to Halling when Dave Karofsky was already here."_

"Karofsky? What's wrong with Karofsky?" Sam couldn't remember being this confused ever. Yeah, he knew Blaine and Karofsky never got on that well, but they were always civil to each other. "I told him about it before you 'cause he was closer but he said he and Azimio were heading to Maine. There's a potential poltergeist up there."

"_Well obviously he's not in Maine since he tried to molest Kurt yesterday!" _Sam felt the blood drain from his face. He was fully aware of Kurt's history from the background checks he ran earlier. The attack Kurt suffered in high school got a lot of press in Ohio.

But something else was off.

"Karofsky's gay?"

Sam jerked the phone away from his ear at the resulting shriek of indignation. _"Kurt almost gets raped and _that's_ what you pick up on? That Karofsky's _gay_?"_

Actually, that had been a pretty insensitive comment. Sam knew he could be oblivious at times, but sheesh. Come on, Evans.

"No, no, Blaine, I didn't mean it like that. I told Karofsky that I was going to call you if he didn't want to go."

Blaine didn't answer. There were a few muffled cries and a loud thunk, and then a new voice was speaking. _"Hey, Sam?"_

"Kurt? Hey man, I'm so sorry—"

"_Look, I won't say it's ok because it's obviously not, but can you do us a favor?"_

"'I live to serve you, Lord Megatron.'"

"_I'm going to murder your dumb ass, Evans."_

"_Shut up, Blaine! Seriously, Sam. We have a problem."_

When Kurt explained the situation, Sam had to agree. This situation was strange all around. His mind began whirring as he jotted down information, already organizing everything like a puzzle. There was a pattern here. And Sam was starting to suspect Kurt might be a part of it.

That kid just couldn't get a break. Sam brought up a map on his computer that showed the latest reported supernatural sightings from around the country. There were more red dots than usual.

Sam hoped Blaine was up to performing. Because Kurt was definitely in danger and he had no idea why.

* * *

><p>The rest of the day was spent in relative silence. Blaine called Tina and told her to meet them at the bar at nine that night. Then he stuck in his head phones and read every book on vampires he could find.<p>

Fan-fucking-tastic.

But Kurt Hummel was having none of it. He was a Hummel, and Hummels did not get ignored.

Anderson wasn't going to know what hit him.

Sure enough, when Kurt came back from the burger joint in town and slammed Blaine's soda down in front of him, Blaine started like he'd had a heart attack.

"The fuck, Kurt?"

"You're going to explain what we're doing in two hours." Kurt ground out, trying to resist dumping his salad over Blaine's head. "We're a team, Blaine. I deserve to know what you want to do. And we're going to decide together." Kurt sat down and pushed the greasy bag over to Blaine. "Come on, Blaine. Seriously. We're in this together, right?" Kurt put on his best kicked-puppy expression. It was nowhere near as irresistible as Blaine's, but Kurt was a part-time actor, right. It seemed to work well enough, though. Blaine sighed and put down his book.

"I don't trust Tina." He stated flatly.

"But why?" Kurt genuinely tried to understand. But the fact remained that Tina and Mike and the rest of them haven't done anything to seem like they were lying. Or dangerous. Hell, Tina hadn't even attacked Blaine when there was blood right in front of her, right?

Blaine shot a tortured look at Kurt. "Do I really have to explain? Can't you just trust me when I say we can't trust vampires?"

"So it's a species thing?" Kurt took a bite of his salad. "That's speciest, Blaine." Score, a smile! It was a bit weak, but Kurt would take small victories.

"Kurt, you have to understand. Vampires have been around for as long as hunters. They kill people. It's in their nature. I grew up with vampires injuring or murdering my family friends. They are monsters who want nothing more to destroy us and we want to destroy them." Blaine close his eyes under Kurt's wide-eyed stare.

Seriously? "Blaine, that's horrible. You can't judge an entire species—"

"Yes I can." Blaine interrupted. "They're evil."

"No they aren't." Kurt wanted to slap Blaine when the other boy scoffed and shook his head. "People judge me like that all the time." Kurt leaned in so Blaine would have to listen. "You should have heard what I got in high school. 'He's gay, he's such a slut.' 'Hummel's a little fairy that likes little boys.' 'He's got no morals and is a horrible thing that doesn't deserve to live.'" Kurt saw Blaine become upset, but he was too angry to stop. Blaine was a sweet person, but he was prejudiced against a whole group based only on stories. "I know what it's like to be completely disregarded based on rumors and tales. I never thought you of all people would be so closed-minded." Kurt sat back, stabbing his lettuce harshly.

A few minutes of silence passed. "What if you're wrong, though?" Blaine whispered. His face was pale and Kurt briefly wondered if he was sick.

"If we help them out and destroy the pack—I don't think one person fed off of Logan Smith, by the way—and if we're wrong, we'll come back." Blaine still looked sick though. "Blaine…" On impulse, Kurt reached across the table and gripped Blaine's hand. Blaine stared at him. "I don't want to live my life second-guessing everyone. Tina was telling the truth. I can feel it. I just…I won't make snap judgments on people without evidence. I've gotten enough of that my whole life and I won't contribute to more."

Blaine had a funny expression on his face, but Kurt met his gaze evenly. He kept his chin high, refusing to look away first. Blaine cracked a smile.

"You're so stubborn."

"Understatement of the year." Kurt grinned.

Blaine shook his head like he was still in amazement that Kurt had managed to change his mind. "It's early, but let's head over now. I could definitely use a drink…" Blaine trailed off when there was a knock at the door.

A chill went down Kurt's spine. No one knew where they were staying. Supposedly. Except maybe Tina had them followed last night. Kurt felt sick at the thought that Blaine could have been right.

Wordlessly, Blaine passed Kurt a handgun; he held a machete in two hands. He motioned for Kurt to back away from the door, and Kurt obeyed with no protest.

Blaine shifted the machete to one hand and reached out to open to the door. Kurt spread his legs to steady himself and aimed the gun at the door. _One,_ Blaine mouthed. _Two…three!_ He flung open the door but stopped the machete swing with a yelp.

"Jesus, Tina!"

The small vampire marched inside, crossed the room and wrapped her arms around Kurt. She burst into tears, burying her face in Kurt's chest. Completely confused, Kurt patted her back.

"Tina, sweetie? What's wrong?" Kurt shot a terrified look at Blaine. Kurt didn't do comfort. That was Blaine's area of expertise. But Blaine just shrugged and sat down. _Helpful, Anderson,_ Kurt thought sourly.

Tina's deep hiccupping sobs wracked her entire body. "They took Mike," she whispered. "What am I going to do? They took Mike, and my friends left. Well," she squeezed Kurt tighter. "My coven left. They aren't my friends. Not after this."

Blaine appeared deep in thought. Which meant Kurt was on his own. "How did you find us?"

"I followed you home last night." Ah.

"I need to find Mike." Tina continued. She spoke into Kurt's shirt. "He's all I have left."

What was one supposed to do when a non-human eating vampire bursts into your room and cries into your shoulder about her kidnapped boyfriend?

"We'll get him back," Kurt whispered into her hair, hugging her close.

* * *

><p>"You're sure this is the place?"<p>

"Yeah." Tina said.

All three were crouching behind an old car outside an old barn on the outskirts of town. The barn was run-down and the only light came from the moon. Blaine squinted and…there. In the shadows near the door, a faint outline moved. He nudged Kurt, who nodded. Seriously, he was so lucky to find Kurt. Kurt actually paid attention to his lessons and stuff. While he didn't exactly listen all the time and had more pride than a freaking lion, Blaine knew he could trust Kurt in these situations.

"We need a plan." Blaine whispered. Tina and Kurt looked at him expectantly. "Alright. We have to take out that vampire before he can sound an alarm or anything. Once he's out of the way, we'll sneak inside and scout out the place until we find Mike—"

"Blaine, I think someone else is getting ahead of you." Kurt pointed at the two headlights swerving wildly up the road. They ducked when the light passed their car, peering over the hood carefully when the tires squealed to a stop.

The car was an old muscle car, though Blaine had no idea what model. Two large men were jumping out and one of them looked familiar. Kurt tensed up next to him and Blaine swore under his breath.

Karofsky let out a yell as he charged the vampire by the door, who shrieked in surprise. He barely had time to move before Karofsky swung the machete like a baseball bat. Blaine felt a little queasy as the head sailed into the darkness.

"Sweet, man!" Azimio cheered. "That went what…twenty feet? New record!" They fist-bumped and crowed happily, bounding inside the door.

Tina hissed. "Animals." She snarled. "You hunters are like animals." She stood up and marched towards the barn.

Kurt sighed and glanced at Blaine. "She has a point," he muttered, following her.

After growing up around hunters his entire life, Blaine knew he was biased. He'd been raised to see things black and white: if something was evil, he killed it. If something wasn't human or attacked humans regularly, he killed it. Before now, he'd never had a reason to doubt his system, but Tina…

Tina made things complicated. And so did Kurt.

Karofsky still had a beating coming to him though.

From the barn door, Kurt motioned frantically for Blaine to come, then disappeared inside. Glancing quickly around, Blaine saw nothing moving. As quietly as possible he ran across the open space and slipped inside the door, where Kurt slapped a hand over his mouth and pulled him off to the side into the shadows. Blaine could barely see him in the gloom, but Kurt leaned over and whispered for him to be quiet directly in his ear. Tina was crouched behind a pile of hay bales and she looked ready to murder someone.

Blaine silently slid down next to her, taking in the scene in the center of the barn.

Gas lanterns lit the area in a soft light, showing vampires lounging around on various hammocks, sleeping bags, and hay bales. Blaine sucked in a gasped when he saw Mike tied down to a chair, bloodied and head hanging. No wonder Tina was flipping shit next to him. Kurt nudged his side and pointed at two bound bodies next to Mike. Azimio and Karofsky. Azimio looked out cold, but Karofsky's terrified eyes were darting around the room, alighting on Blaine. They widened. Blaine glared and held a finger to his lips. Thankfully, Karofsky got the message and shut up. He glanced at the woman relaxing on a threadbare couch nervously.

In contrast to her black leather and spandex-clad brethren, she wore a thin white dress. Her hair was long and wavy and she sipped seductively from a cup. Blaine caught a hint of red on her full lips. Every so often, a large male vampire with braids would lean down and kiss her neck.

She snapped her fingers. "Victor, get me a phone." Her voice purred as the braided vampire growled at another young man, who immediately shuffled and fumbled a cell phone from his pocket.

"For you, Brianna."

"Thank you, Victor." She kissed him long and deep before dialing a number.

Blaine had a bad feeling about this. Vampires were smart, yes. But this was just…off. This group had kidnapped one of their own and taken hunters hostage. Karofsky hadn't been turned, just fed on a little. None of them were dead. And now the leader was calling someone else.

"Darling!" Brianna said in a sing song voice. She giggled a little at the response. "Look, honey, we've been doing what you asked. We're working on it…what? Yes, we're trying!" Her voice rose in indignation. "We don't know where they are! I did what you asked and carved up a human. He hasn't found us yes. We have two other hunters that tried to ambush us…" She stroked Karofsky's cheek, smiling when he twisted away. "We also have one of vampires from the vegetarian coven." The coven snickered at her words. "They'll come. You said he's honorable, right? Humans are just so predictable."

The words were just weird. And strange. Blaine felt like he had all the pieces but not the whole picture but he was fairly certain they were talking about Kurt. He caught a glimpse of Kurt's wide eyes and thin lips. Kurt saw and glared, daring Blaine to say something.

"Of course, darling. We'll call when we get him. And then…? Perfect." Brianna's lips curved up in a nasty smile. "Oh, this is such a wonderful time to be alive!" she gushed, ending the call and playing with the braided vampire's hair. "Or dead. Or whatever. Anyway!" She turned to Mike with a huge grin. "Your lover isn't here yet. Damn, she must not care about you after all, huh? Pity."

Blaine and Kurt grabbed Tina's arms before she could storm into the opening. Mike snarled and bared his fangs at Brianna. "I'll kill her," Tina hissed. "I'll tear her pretty locks right off her fucking head!"

The very last thing Blaine needed was an angry vampire raging on the loose. He let go of her arm, but hooked his own around her neck and bent her backwards to throw off her balance. His father insisted Blaine learn chokeholds, and this one was very effective. Tina couldn't move without falling over or snapping her neck. "Tina, relax. We need to come up with a plan. We can't run in there without a plan otherwise Mike could die. Ok?" When Tina finally nodded grudgingly, Blaine released her.

Then he noticed Kurt wasn't behind him anymore.

* * *

><p>It was a bad idea. It was a really bad idea. And Blaine was going to kill him if he pulled this off and lived.<p>

The fact was that Kurt had read earlier that day. And several books mentioned burning vampires could work as well as beheadings.

As there were seven vampires and three of them plus three hostages…

Well. A fire might even the odds.

The hay felt dry enough. Plus the lanterns were gas. Kurt ducked from shadow to shadow, trying to find all the exits. His plans would work if there were more than one escape route. He wondered if Blaine realized he was gone. When he'd restrained Tina, Kurt took the chance to slip away, though he thought Karofsky saw.

Kurt briefly entertained the thought of letting Karofsky burn for what he did. God knew it'd be cathartic. But he'd survived worse, and he even let those teens in California live. Kurt knew he was a terrible person in some ways, but he wasn't quite that vindictive.

He would never forgive Karofsky though.

Blaine was up ahead. Somehow, Kurt managed to walk the entire barn length without getting caught. And the only exit was the door they came in through. Time to convince Blaine.

"The fuck were you thinking?" Blaine's voice was low but dangerous. "Why would you wander off like that?"

Brianna was entertaining the vampires and taunting Mike, waving her arms wildly and laughing at his stony silence.

She was distracted. Kurt pulled Blaine and Tina in close. "We're going to burn them." He said. Their eyes got huge. Kurt could help but be kind of insulted. He worked hard on this plan! "We'll need someone to be a distraction, and once we get Mike and Karofsky freed they can help us. It's just that burning them is a lot easier than trying to cut all of their heads off." Kurt was pleased to see Blaine slowly nodding. Especially because Kurt's next words were really going to piss him off. "I'm going to be the distraction."

"Fuck no." The response was immediate.

"Come on, Blaine!"

"No! They're looking for me—"

"—All the more reason to not give yourself to them."

"Blaine! I'm the best choice! They expect me to come and if I do they'll pay attention to me. Tina can move fast and she can help get Karofsky and Azimio out of the barn and I can start the fire. There's only one way out of here. I checked." Kurt wanted to choke Blaine when he saw Blaine wasn't listening. Honestly, did the boy think he couldn't pull his own weight or something? "You can't stop me. So you can either sit there or help." With that, Kurt stepped into the light with a cheery smile.

* * *

><p>Blaine had no time to react when Kurt left his side and walked into the lion's den. Why. <em>Why <em>did Blaine have to be stuck with the most headstrong kid on the planet? He groaned to himself and dragged Tina, sticking the outskirts of the barn.

All of the vampires were facing Kurt, leaving Mike and the other hunters unnoticed. Now behind the vampires, Blaine crept forward and knelt next to Karofsky, though he kept an eye on Kurt. Tina had Mike free in seconds, and they both worked on Azimio.

"Heard you were looking for me, sweetie!" Kurt was saying. Blaine winced and prayed to a god, any god, that Kurt wouldn't do something stupid and get himself killed. He fumbled with Karofsky's bonds and he was slightly rougher than he needed to be? Well, the rope was tight. Karofsky shot him a glare once his arms were free but wisely kept silent.

"He looks…delicious." One of the vampires licked his lips and Blaine fought an urge to destroy the little black-haired punk. Instead, he shoved Karofsky into the shadows and nodded at Kurt.

Kurt had a plan, Blaine knew, but he hadn't shared. Blaine decided he needed to get everyone the hell out, preferably with Kurt intact as well. But that hungry gaze Brianna was dragging up and down Kurt's body made Blaine nervous.

"You're not my type, mouse." Kurt sneered, winking at Blaine. He began walking in a wide circle to the right. The vampires followed him, leaving the barn door unwatched. Tina and Mike quickly slipped through the door with Azimio propped up between them. Blaine and Karofsky hid behind a hay barrel, watching Kurt.

Brianna grinned, showing every one of her sharp teeth. Blaine shifted his machete to his right hand.

"Look at the little kitty, baring his baby claws." She drawled, slinking up near Kurt. Blaine saw him swallow and take a few steps back, though his expression remained confident and haughty. _Oh Kurt, don't do anything stupid…_

"Is he fucking nuts?" Karofsky whispered in his ear.

"Yes." Blaine gritted out.

Walking back to the vampires, Brianna let out a tinkling laugh. "Anyway, thank you sweetie, you've made this _so_ much easier for us. Phone!" She barked out the command and the mousy vampire nearly tripped over himself to hand her the cell phone. The vampire barely acknowledged his presence before yanking the phone out and dialing. "You hang out there for a moment darling, this will only take a second. Yes, hello? Well I thought you'd like to know—"

Blaine saw it in slow motion before it happened. Kurt reached behind him, drew, and fired his gun in one smooth moment. Somehow, in the weeks with Blaine, Kurt had become a regular sharpshooter. Though his aim was severely lacking.

Shrieking in sursprise, Brianna dropped the phone and stared. Her arm had a line of red near the elbow and it dripped steadily. But the cute was already beginning to heal.

"I think you need to read up on effective weapons against us," she growled, her coven following. Her grey eyes flashed with fury and Blaine had no idea how Kurt could stand there so calmly. "Also you need to work on your aim." She chuckled maliciously.

Kurt just smiled. "No I don't." Then he squared off his gun and fired again, hitting one of the gas lanterns. The glass exploded, raining burning gas on the dry hay, which went up in flames. Kurt wasted no time shooting out two more lamps before turning and running.

Blaine saw the flames spread rapidly and one of the vampires got caught in the blaze. As the figure screamed and twisted, the rest of the groups just stared until the pillar of flame collapsed. The vampire didn't move again. Kurt was right; fire apparently could kill vampires. Brianna had given chase to Kurt after the death of her minion and Blaine leapt out from behind the hay, brandishing his machete wildly.

Swinging the blade easily, Blaine managed to cut down a tall, thin vampire with a purple vest easily. He barely stopped to think, instead tearing after Kurt, who had resorting to shooting Brianna to keep her away. She healed too fast, though. Blaine bolted, dimly aware of Karofsky fighting behind him. Brianna was only a few feet in front of him. Blaine leapt, landing on her back and driving her face into the barn floor.

"Don't you touch him," he growled in her ear. Brianna hissed through her teeth and bucked up with a surprising amount of strength, toppling Blaine to the ground. He dropped his weapon and smacked his head on a broken wooden beam. Eyes watering, Blaine began feeling around for the machete, suddenly coughing around the smoke.

"Blaine!" Kurt was at his side, wiping off the blood running down the side of his face. He tried to push Blaine to stand up, Blaine was tired, so tired, and his head hurt and he couldn't breathe. As he choked on the ash in the air, Blaine thought he heard Karofsky yelling triumphantly across the room and dull thumps from his weapon. Kurt tried to lift him again, managing to get Blaine to his feet. "Come on, Blaine, move!"

Did Kurt understand that he couldn't? Blaine felt sluggish and sleepy and his limbs weighed a million pounds. He gripped Kurt's arms, willing his legs to support him. Dimly, Blaine wondered if this was what concussions felt like.

Brianna grinned among the flames. Blaine took in her singed and blackened white dress and cold eyes. He tried to step forward but almost pitched onto his face. Kurt dragged him up and backwards until their backs hit the side of the barn. Even through the clouds of the concussion, Blaine knew they were in trouble.

"Sweet little kitten trying to protect his master," Brianna snickered, a hand raised to her mouth as she laughed behind it.

"He's not my master," Kurt shot out, still gripping Blaine's arms tight and keeping him upright. Blaine was so grateful in that moment because he wasn't sure he'd be able to support his own weight.

Brianna's teeth glinted in the firelight. She didn't even seem to hear the screams coming from her coven at the hands of Karofsky. "You know," she said silkily, "I have orders to keep you alive. You," she clarified, pointing a long graceful finger at Kurt, "not him." The finger moved to Blaine.

Kurt stiffened next to him. "You won't hurt him. I won't let you."

How had Kurt become so brave? Blaine had no idea. Maybe Kurt had always been strong. His head hurt, but Blaine wanted to stay conscious, stay with Kurt.

"You can't stop me!" Brianna shouted, her eyes flashing with murder. She rushed at them but before Kurt could move or push Blaine out of the way, Tina was in front with the machete in one gloved hand. Brianna frantically tried to backpedal, but it was too late. Tina stepped forward and swung with a grunt. Brianna's head flew into the flames, still wearing an expression of shock. Even before the body had time to fall, Tina had her arm around Blaine and ran outside, Kurt following.

Behind them, the barn collapsed in a roar of flames and broken wood.

* * *

><p>"Thank you," Tina whispered the next evening, her head buried in Kurt's shoulder. They stood in front of an old Ford loaded with a few bags of clothes. Mike and Blaine were off to the side, waiting patiently. Blaine had a bandage wrapped around his head, covering ten stitches. The doctors at the emergency room hadn't blinked an eye at Kurt's story of him tripping over their dog and catching the counter top corner.<p>

Kurt squeezed Tina tightly. "No, thank you. You saved us, remember?" Kurt grinned, ruffling her hair. Tina squawked indignantly, but held Kurt's hands for an extra second.

"You and Blaine are wonderful people. Thank you for helping me save Mike." Tina ducked her head. "Um, I also put my number in your phone so call me if you need anything? Or you know…" She shifted uneasily, and Kurt grinned again. He knew what she was asking.

"I will," he said. "You may be dead, but it gets so tiring to have to converse with _him_ all the time." He threw an exaggerated glance at Blaine, who sputtered at being singled out. "I need my girl time too, you know!"

Tina giggled and hugged Kurt again. She released him and glanced at Blaine. "You treat my boy right, hunter." She frowned. "Or else I'll sic Mike on you." Blaine swallowed and glanced at Mike, who towered over him. When he looked back at Tina, though, she smiled. Like she did Kurt, she embraced him tightly. "You're a much better man than your father." She whispered in his ear and pulled away.

"Are you ready?" Mike asked. He'd already said his goodbyes.

"Yes." Tina left a stunned Blaine and flounced into the passenger side of the rusty blue Ford. As Mike got in the driver's seat, she rolled down the window. "I'll miss you guys!" As they pulled away into the darkness, she waved frantically, half-leaning out the window until Mike pulled her back in.

Kurt kept waving until the taillights were tiny dots in the distance. When he turned to Blaine, he saw his friend staring into the night with a strange expression. "Hey, what's up?" He touched Blaine's shoulder carefully.

"Nothing," Blaine said. But a faint smile ghosted over his lips. "You ready?"

"Almost. I just…give me a second." Kurt sat on the roof of the Mustang, staring up at the stars. They were just outside of town on a small road, so there were almost no lights around. The stars shimmered and twinkled above him. Just about the only thing Kurt had missed about Ohio while in New York were the stars. He leaned back against the windshield.

He felt rather than saw Blaine climb up next to him. The other boy just laid there in silence, letting Kurt decide when to talk. It was nice.

As Kurt traced the stars with his eyes, he replayed the conversation the night before.

"_I'm sorry."_

_Kurt stared at him incredulously. "You're sorry?"_

_While Blaine was getting stitches and Azimio was getting examined in some room, Karofsky sat next to him in the waiting room. At first, Kurt almost got up and moved, but something in Karofsky's eyes stopped him. He couldn't stop the flood of anger he felt when Karofsky hung his head and stared at his feet. This was who was afraid of? This scared little boy?_

_But Karofsky was sniffling. "I…I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have…" Tears trickled down his face. "I wish I could take what I did to you back."_

_Kurt knew he should be raging right now. Tearing down Karofsky, screaming for him to go to hell. But some reason, he couldn't. Kurt wondered if it was because when Karofsky kissed him he couldn't shake the feeling that Karofsky had hoped he'd kiss back._

_Coming to terms with your sexuality was hard. Kurt had only done it because he was too open and too stubborn to hide himself. But for someone that could pass as straight and grew up in a culture that valued manhood and probably called everyone slightly girly a fag? It took courage._

_Kurt didn't think Karofsky had it yet._

"_I wish you could too." Kurt said, turning to face the hunter. "I won't tell you I forgive you because I don't. I know it's hard to admit to yourself…things. But I won't out you." Karofsky's eyes lifted hopefully at that. Then they clouded and glance over at the door that led to the examination rooms. Kurt interpreted the look instantly. "Blaine won't either. Just know this." Kurt dropped his voice so only Karofsky could hear. "Karofsky. Don't do what you almost did to me too anyone else. That kind of attack is the worst kind of violation anyone could ever experience. Believe me." Kurt sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. It'd been a long day._

"_Dave."_

_Kurt opened his eyes. "What?"_

_Karofsky hesitantly met Kurt's eyes. "My name. It's Dave. Well, David. But I like Dave."_

_He wasn't fixed. Not by a long shot. Kurt knew people like Karof—…Dave don't change overnight. He'd been a bully for so long he had to remember how to interact with people without violence or crude jokes._

_But maybe Kurt could help change him. So he let a small smile play around his lips and held out his hand. "Hello, Dave. I'm Kurt." The resulting smile was so wide Kurt couldn't help but be hopeful._

"I used to watch the stars when I was little," Blaine said, cutting into Kurt's thoughts.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." Blaine stretched, letting out little groans of pleasure. "If my parents were on a hunt, I'd go the roof of the building and sit there, making pictures in the sky until they came home."

Kurt had an image of a small, curly-haired boy in too-big polos and ugly shoes sitting on a roof by himself. The image was so lonely Kurt wanted to cry.

"It made me feel less alone, you know?" Blaine kept talking. "I could look at the sky and imagine so many other people looking at the same sky, the same stars. So even though I didn't know their names or even where they lived, we still shared something." He folded his hands behind his head. "This is a good spot," he said quietly.

"That was really sweet, Blaine." Kurt giggled at Blaine beaming at him. "We can leave now, if you want."

But Blaine shook his head. "I wanna look for a little while longer." And how could Kurt say no?

The night was slightly chilly, but Kurt couldn't feel it. He was content to sit with Blaine as long as he wanted. Faintly, he noticed Blaine was singing. It started off very quiet, but Blaine grew louder when he turned to see Kurt gazing at him.

_When you wish upon a star  
>Makes no difference who you are<br>Anything your heart desires  
>Will come to you<em>

Blaine's hand reached out and Kurt took it, smiling to himself. Under the stars, on top of an old Mustang, with Blaine singing felt so perfect and so right.

Kurt knew it couldn't last, but dammit, this moment was all that mattered right then.

_When you wish upon a star  
>Your dreams come true<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Songs used: Won't Back Down by Tom Petty, Sometimes You Can't make It On Your Own by U2, When You Wish Upon A Star from Pinocchio<strong>

**Alright, first of all, I don't love this chapter either. It really dragged on and I feel like it suffers from pacing issues and way too much talking. So I apologize for that. I also haven't reread this as many times as usual so the quality probably sucks. Go easy on me?**

**Also please don't get on my case about Blaine singing Disney songs. That song just worked right there for me. It's not like I'm going to suddenly make them sit around quoting The Little Mermaid every five minutes, I swear.**

**I had to make Tina a vampire. I had to. It was too perfect. And while Karofsky is growing on me in the show, here he's still an asshole. but getting better. And yes, what he did to Kurt was horrible and Kurt probably shouldn't even be talking to him, but I can't really care because it's been a month and I can't think of anything else.**

**Ok, so important stuff. PLOT SIGHTINGS! Alright, this question is really for people who have seen Supernatural: I can do one of two things. I can keep doing what I'm doing with no clue as to an overall plot and keep it as mostly individual episodes until I think of something. Or, I can modify Supernatural's overall plot with angels and demons and tweak it to fit this story. I won't copy it completely because that's tacky. So what do you guys think?**

**The next episode will hopefully not take as long but I can't promise anything. It turns out that for some reason, I have friends! And they want to hang out with me! Ha ha. But I think I will make the next one more funny/amusing than scary.**

**Again, thank you for reading, I hope I didn't disappoint you all too much! Now back to studying...**


	7. The Greatest Show On Earth

**A/N: Oh dear lord this is really, really, late. I'm so sorry! Real life got in the way, and then there was some awful writer's block and I'm still not to thrilled with how this turned out...**

**But I figured you guys would want something, so here you go. If I reread it later, I might upload a new version, but this is probably it. Again, really sorry about the delay. I promise I haven't forgotten about this story. Also, 3,000 hits? Seriously? You guys are too kind. Thank you so much for checking this out =]**

**Um warnings: Clowns. Swearing. Violence. Also light spoilers for episode 3x05? If you don't know the name of the new Warbler guy, don't read.**

* * *

><p>Rainsville, Florida was the most boring town in the history of the world according to fifteen-year-old Justin Delaney.<p>

Seriously.

There was nothing to do here other than go to the movies (which he'd already done) or get high. And he was broke. Justin kicked a crushed beer can and moodily shuffled his way down the dark and empty streets. He scowled when he thought about going home.

It was almost ten and his parents would still be awake, though probably drunk enough to scream at each other by now. Justin hated it.

Why could he have a normal family with a mom and a dad that loved him? Instead, he got a permanently wasted mother and a father that never failed to explain to his son in great detail how much of a disappointment he was.

When Justin graduated high school in three years, he was going out West and was never coming back.

A figure in the shadows up ahead caught his eye. Justin put his hand in his pocket, where he had a small pocketknife tucked away. The streetlights were dim and most of the lights in the buildings around him were off, leaving the street draped with darkness. Justin nervously ran his fingers through his long, dirty-blonde hair. He was afraid, he realized. His mind screamed at him to turn around and run away from the rapidly approaching figure, but Justin couldn't convince his legs to move. Instead, he stood under a streetlamp, listening to the footfalls of the stranger and the faint whistle of music. The type sounded familiar. Kind of like the music from the monkey jack-in-the-box that used to give him nightmares when he was a baby.

The man slid up to Justin—and he did slide, there really was no other verb for the eerie was he slunk into the light, becoming taller and leaner at the same time. He was dressed strangely.

Justin tried to remember where he'd seen a similar outfit. Then he recalled a day trip with his mom before vodka became her best friend. They'd gone to the traveling circus that day and Justin spent the afternoon is a state of wonder and shock and had a constant flow of cotton candy to his mouth. When they entered the big tent (_the bigtop_, his mother called it) and sat down, a man came out and all the lights went out except for one spotlight aiming on him. His mother whispered that he was the _ringmaster_, that he ran the whole show.

The man was dressed like him. Like the ringmaster from that ancient circus. Only his coattails were longer and more frayed and Justin could see the costume was worn and faded and covered in strange stains. The man's long, oily black hair was tied back in a ponytail and he had a beaten black top hat on his head. The curled moustache and sharp goatee completed the image. If he was going for the "slightly unhinged circus guy" look, Justin was pretty sure the man had it down pat.

"You look like a distinctive boy," the man said, his words slipping and sliding around Justin's ear. The uneasy and nervous feeling crept up to the surface and Justin fought the urge to run. "Why not come to the circus for a night of fun?" The man pressed a sheet of paper into Justin's hands, smiling.

COME TO THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH, it said. The advertisement spoke about fortune tellers, trained animals, clowns and in one corner in small print, a freak show with a warning that only those eighteen and older could attend. It didn't seem like the kind of circus he'd gone to with his mother. Justin wanted to go. No, he _needed_ to go. But…

"No thank you." Justin tried to hand the paper back. "I don't have the money."

But the ringmaster simply grinned another spine-chilling grin and produced a slip of paper. "You are in luck then, child." He chuckled lightly. "We are giving away a few tickets to drum up sales. Why don't you take one," Justin found himself holding the ticket, "and come join us tomorrow night out past the Kenda's plantation? We open at dusk."

Justin stared at the man for a while. It was too good to be true. It had to be too good to be true. The man was still smiling, his moustache curling up menacingly. Justin wouldn't go. Something was off about this whole thing. But best to be polite.

"Thank you. I'll think about it." He finally said, taking a step backwards. Suddenly, he just really wanted to be home.

The man tipped his hat. "That you shall," he said, winking. He turned away, walking back into the shadows and whistling that same strange calliope tune. Justin watched him leave, then glanced back at the papers in his hands.

He wasn't going. He didn't trust that man. But the idea stuck in his head and Justin felt strangely compelled to…no. No, he would stay in tomorrow and play a marathon of Call of Duty on his refurbished Xbox. And he would not, under any circumstances, go to a creepy carnival after dark.

* * *

><p>-<em>Just outside Rainesville, Florida-<em>

"Seriously, Blaine? We're stopping for pie?"

"Damn straight, we're stopping for pie!"

Kurt arched an eyebrow at Blaine's grin. The boy was secretly a five-year-old in a grown-up's body, Kurt just knew it. He was practically bouncing in his seat in anticipation of the calorie-loaded treat. All because of one billboard ad about ten miles back.

"You're five." Kurt nodded to himself sadly.

Blaine laughed. "No, I just know how to enjoy myself. Pie is amazing. If you ever ate something heavier than a salad, maybe you'd realize that."

"No, I just know how to take care of myself. And pie does not help."

"You love pie. I remember Thanksgiving. Ow!" Blaine shot a hurt look at Kurt, who ignored it. "No abusing the driver. Besides, you should thank pie."

Kurt glanced at Blaine. "What?"

"I'm serious!" Blaine grinned again, but then his expression grew serious. "It's why I stopped in Lima. I may not have met you if I hadn't wanted one of Ms. Pillsbury's pies." His voice softened.

Well, that was interesting. "Really?"

Blaine nodded. "Yeah. I saw one her signs on the highway, and thought pie sounded great, so I took the next exit. And then my car broke and…you know." He shrugged.

Kurt watched Blaine from the corner of his eye. His whole life changed because Blaine decided he wanted a pie? The universe was insane. All these different coincidences conspiring to bring them together. "Well, then. When we have a pie in front of us, I will thank it for breaking your car down." Kurt deadpanned, laughing when Blaine playfully hit his shoulder.

But Kurt knew he would. Silently, of course. Because Blaine was the best thing to ever happen to him.

* * *

><p>Pie. Blaine had no idea why he loved pie so much. Maybe it was because he very rarely got a real home-cooked meal while growing up. Everything was from a can or frozen. And a pie had to be handmade even if it was bought in a store. Well, the fresh ones at least.<p>

That must be it. Blaine happily shoved another spoonful of apple and pie crust in his mouth, watching Kurt do the same. He wanted a piece of real home life. And pies embodied that for him.

"You know," Kurt said around a mouthful of dessert. "If you ever splurge for a room with a kitchen, I will make you a real pie. Not this half-cooked crap." He smirked from across the table.

"Oh my God, really?" Blaine wanted that. He _so_ wanted that. Maybe one day.

The diner they were in was small, along with the town. A few older customers huddled around one of the booths playing cards, and there were some couples scattered around. The owner stood behind the counter and lethargically wiped down glasses, smacking her gum. People talked and laughed to eat other. But there was a tension in the room Blaine couldn't identify. The scene was normal enough, but just underneath…

"Blaine?" Kurt looked at him with concern. "You alright?"

Did Kurt feel it? Blaine decided to ask. "Yeah. But um…do you…do you think this place is a little strange?"

"Well, there is a stuffed crocodile on the wall above the door." Kurt raised an eyebrow. "What's up? Are your 'hunter senses' tingling?" Kurt took a sip of coffee, but Blaine could see him hiding a smile.

"I don't know. Maybe it's just me." Blaine finished his slice and sighed.

Years of being on the road and running into every evil creature under the sun made Blaine paranoid. Blaine scraped up the last of the pie crumbs and pushed the cleared plate away.

While he waited for Kurt to eat the rest of his pie, a girl with an armful of papers walked up to them.

She was pretty, maybe in her early twenties with a long red plait tossed over her shoulder and dark circles under her blue eyes. Blaine thought she looked like she got less sleep than Kurt, which was a feat in itself.

"Hey," she said breathlessly, forcing a smile. "My name is Nicole Jordan. Um, I know you aren't from around here 'cause we know everyone in this town," She glanced around, and the few locals that had been staring looked back at whatever they were doing. "But I was wondering if you could help." She took a sheet from her pile and handed it to Blaine.

A teenage boy with sad eyes and a mop of light-colored hair gazed up at him with the word MISSING printed in bold letters above his head.

"His name is Justin Delaney. He's a friend of my little brother's." Nicole sighed. "He didn't come home last night and no one knows where he could be. Adam—my brother—said he was going to the carnival outside of town, but they didn't see him either. So could you guys just…be on the lookout? He doesn't have a great home life, but he's a sweet kid. We're all really worried."

Something was off. Blaine knew something she said sounded familiar, but it wouldn't come to him. Unless…

"You said he went to a carnival? What's the name of it?" Blaine ignored Kurt's questioning glances. It just all sounded so familiar; like déjà vu, if only Blaine could remember everything.

Nicole thought a moment. "Something weird. Malevo or Malfico or—"

"'Malvagio's Travelling Circus'?"

She grinned. "Yeah, that was it! Did you see a sign or something?" But Blaine wasn't listening.

Fuck. This was so bad. Why here? Why now? Blaine breathed shallowly but tried not to show how panicked he really was. But nothing got past Kurt.

"Blaine?" Kurt asked cautiously, putting his hand on Blaine's. "You alright?"

He needed to talk to Kurt. Kurt would know what to do. But Nicole couldn't be dragged into this. They needed to go, right now, and figure out a plan.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine." He said hurriedly, throwing a few bills on the table. "We gotta go though. To that thing. You know?" Oh dear God let Kurt get the hint.

Still looking at Blaine like he suddenly grew an extra eye, Kurt nevertheless nodded. "Right. Of course." With considerable more calmness than Blaine, who itched to get out of the diner, Kurt slid out of the booth and stood.

Blaine turned to Nicole. "I'm sorry about your friend. We'll keep an eye for him though. Can I keep this?" Blaine waved the flyer. Nicole nodded slowly, obviously confused. Blaine wished he had more time to explain but if this was what he thought, he and Kurt only had a few hours until another vanishing.

Kurt was taking forever to put on his jacket and seriously? They were in fucking Florida; the temperature was about 60 and the car was right outside the door. Once Kurt was finally, _finally_ ready, Blaine tugged him across the diner and pushed him outside.

Oh. One more thing though. "Nicole?" Blaine ran back inside to the stunned girl, leaving Kurt alone in the parking lot. "Listen—don't go to the carnival. Alright? Just…stay away from it. We'll look for the kid." He smiled awkwardly at her before running outside.

Blaine really hoped she'd listen.

* * *

><p>It was official, Kurt decided while standing outside in the night. Blaine had gone crazy.<p>

He had never seen Blaine so worked up about a potential job. Kurt crossed him arms in the cool breeze as he waited for Blaine to get back. When Nicole mentioned the carnival and the name—Malvagio or something?—Blaine had gone so _white_. Blaine was scared.

And when something scared Blaine? Kurt knew he should be terrified.

The parking lot was kind of creepy, actually. Kurt stood underneath one of the two streetlights, next to an ancient deep green Dodge van. He was musing on Blaine's weirdness when he caught movement in the corner of his eye.

A man was standing in front of him and hey, what? Kurt knew he hadn't been out of it enough to miss the man walking up to him. It was like he just appeared there; no leading footsteps or breaths to give him away. The man grinned, showing yellowed teeth. Kurt's instincts were going haywire.

And the man had awful taste in clothes. Kurt wrinkled his nose at the sight of stains, frayed threads, and missing sequins. The coattails could be fashionable if they were actually the same length and the top hat might be fancy if it didn't have a giant grey patch on the side and a bit of the brim missing.

"Come see the carnival," the man breathed in a silky voice. He held out a worn flyer to Kurt, who took it gingerly.

The flyer had "Malvagio's Travelling Circus" written on the top in a carnival-themed font with times and illustrations underneath. It looked innocent enough. But the paper felt heavy in Kurt's hands, like it was carrying something. Something evil. Kurt fought the desire to tear the paper up into tiny shreds and run away, instead forcing a polite smile on his face.

He jerked back when the man reached out a long finger and ran it over Kurt's cheek. "Maybe one day you'll join us," the man whispered. Kurt's stomach rolled at the confident tone in his voice. He didn't like it. He didn't like the man either, or his clothes, or his fingers, or his eyes, which were roving all over Kurt's body and where the fuck was Blaine?

"Kurt!"

Hearing Blaine's voice, Kurt whipped his head around and caught sight of his friend. _Oh thank God._ Blaine waved at him and walked over, zipping up his coat on the way.

"Hey! You ok? You look pale." Blaine frowned at Kurt's white face.

"N-nothing, nothing, I'm fine it's just—" Kurt pointed at the man behind him, but when he turned around, the parking lot was empty. He stood, dumbfounded at the empty place where the man should have been.

"Kurt?" Blaine looked at him strangely.

"There was a man here." Kurt stated, still trying to comprehend the fact that a solid, tangible being was right next to him not two minutes ago and now was gone.

Surprisingly, Blaine just sighed. "Well, come on. We've got a few hours to get ready; the library doesn't close until eight." He walked to the Mustang.

Kurt frowned, but followed. "You're still explaining what the hell went on in the diner. And the man was real. He gave me this." He thrust the flyer into Blaine's hands, not liking how pale Blaine went at the sight of the name. "Seriously, Blaine. You know what's going on. Spit it out." Folding his arms, Kurt stood in front of his door and glared.

"I will, I promise. Please get in the car?" Blaine bounced on his feet anxiously. "A few hours, Kurt."

"Are we hunting tonight then?"

"We're hunting tonight."

Well. This will be interesting.

* * *

><p><em>-Eastview, Colorado, 2003-<em>

"_We're going to be gone for a week. Stay in the room. Do not leave this room." The tall man glared at his curly-haired teenage son as he checked his shotgun one last time. His wife was already in the Mustang out the gritty motel room._

"_Okay."_

"_I mean it, Blaine." The man hiked a huge bag over his shoulder and stomped to the door. He turned to give his son a once over. "Stay in here and read your books. Or play that guitar thing."_

_The boy returned his gaze. "I've read all my books a hundred times each and my guitar needs new strings. As I told you, Dad, every time we passed a music store." Blaine crossed his arms and stood his ground. "I am fifteen years old. I think I can handle going to the library in town without dying." At his father's narrowed eyes, a shiver of fear crept up Blaine's back. He was pushing it, but the words kept tumbling out of his mouth. "You can't keep me locked up in here forever. Let me come. What's the point of teaching me all these things if I never get to practice? I can help. I can be back-up."_

_But as soon as Blaine spoke, he knew it was a lost cause. His father just clenched his jaw tightly. "You are not old enough, Blaine," Or man enough, the unspoken words hung in the air. Blaine snapped._

"_Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I'm useless!" he shouted. "And it won't go away by avoiding me!"_

_It was always the same. Ever since he'd come out two months ago, his father kept making up excuses for him and his wife to hunt alone while Blaine waited behind in yet another dingy motel. Every time, Blaine would ask to go, and his father would say it's too dangerous. But Blaine knew it was because the man couldn't stand to be around a fag for long periods of time. It was only his mother's insistence that Blaine stay with them rather than at New Directions with Mr. Schue._

_Blaine's father just stared at his son. "Stay here." He repeated, and then walked out._

_Left alone in the room, Blaine didn't move. He was rooted to the spot, glaring at the door when he heard the all too familiar sound of a lock clicking into place._

* * *

><p><em>-Present-<em>

Kurt finished cleaning his gun and glanced at Blaine. The boy had been quiet as they got ready for that night, barely speaking except to tell Kurt what supplies he should pack. Kurt glanced at his duffle bag. It held a shotgun, a large container of salt, lighter fluid, extra matches, a blanket for some reason, rope, and three daggers; on made of silver, one bronze and one iron. Christ, were they hunting or waging war?

"Which knife should I carry?" Kurt called over to Blaine, who was rooting through his own bag.

"The silver," Blaine replied instantly. He didn't even look up.

Kurt frowned, but slipped the knife into his back pocket. The gun went into a pocket on the inside of his brown leather jacket along with a cigarette lighter. Thinking for a moment, Kurt slid a metal file into his boots. Who knew, maybe it would come in handy.

Blaine was still packing, so Kurt wandered over to the window and looked outside. Night had fallen and darkness blanketed the area, except for a patch of light in the distance. The circus. Kurt watched the pulsating light through the trees. He had a feeling they would end up there tonight and he didn't like it. Circuses always gave Kurt the creeps. They were too dirty and seedy. And had clowns. Kurt shivered. He hated clowns. This circus, though, made Kurt instinctively want to run away and never look back. He wasn't looking forward to seeing the man from the parking lot again.

He felt his cheek where the man had stroked. His fingers had felt weird. The skin was dry and felt thin. Like it wasn't real. Kurt shook his head. _Don't go there yet,_ he told himself. _Blaine hasn't even explained what we're hunting._

"You ready?" Kurt turned to see Blaine standing at the door with his coat on and bag at his feet. Blaine raised his eyebrow questioningly.

"Yeah." Kurt grabbed his stuff, waiting by the car while Blaine locked the room. Kurt watched him toss the bags in the back and get behind the wheel. He still wasn't talking. Up close, the hazel eyes looked cloudy and distracted instead of the usual mix of worry and amusement. "Blaine, you alright?" Kurt asked quietly as Blaine started the car.

Blaine didn't answer. He pulled out of the lot and glanced at the flyer for the carnival again.

"Blaine?"

"I'm fine, it's just…" Blaine sighed, but kept his eyes on the road. "Memories." He said finally.

"So you've run into this thing before then?"

"About seven years ago. In Colorado. I was fifteen." Blaine finally glanced over at Kurt.

So Blaine knew what this was. But…

"I don't understand. If you've run into this before, why is it still breathing? Is this a different one or something?" But that didn't make sense because Blaine remembered the name of the circus and it was the same as the one today.

He saw Blaine shift uncomfortably. "I'm pretty sure it's the same one." Blaine shut his mouth tightly.

Good Lord, getting this boy to talk about his past was like pulling teeth. "Want to elaborate?" Kurt gritted out, trying to resist the urge to smack Blaine upside the head.

Blaine just looked at him with a tortured expression.

"_Blaine."_

* * *

><p><em>-2003-<em>

_He tried to be good and stay in the room. He really did. But teenage boys could only occupy themselves for long inside four walls. Several hours after his parents left, Blaine figured now was as good a time as ever to hunt down new guitar strings. As he was not a complete idiot, he slipped a flashlight and a knife into his jacket pocket besides the wad of cash he'd lifted from his mother earlier that day. If his parents were going to lock him in a room for weeks on end, they could hardly be surprised if he decided to take matters into his own hands._

_ Right?_

_ Besides, he was a teenager. These periods of rebellion were perfectly normal. Blaine snorted to himself, staring at the doorknob. His life was nowhere near normal._

Come on Blaine. It's just a doorknob. Who gives a shit what your dad says? He can't keep you hidden away forever. Just reach out and turn it._ Blaine wrestled with himself as the simple brass circular knob stared back innocently. Fuck, why was it so hard to disobey his father's orders?_

_Blaine suddenly reached out and twisted the knob before he could think. The door swung open and Blaine stepped through. He locked the door on the inside and shut it, checked that the door wouldn't budge. His father hadn't left the keys, probably hoping to dissuade Blaine from sneaking out without a means of unlocking the door. Blaine fingered the lock picks in his pocket. Sometimes he wondered if his father knew him at all._

_The night air was crisp and Blaine felt a huge weight lift from his shoulders. Freed from the small room, the teenager inhaled the scent of the woods and the outdoors. _

_An hour later found Blaine sitting outside an ice cream parlor working on a mint chocolate chip cone with chocolate syrup and gummy bears on top. In his pocket he had his new guitar strings stashed away carefully. He watched as a young couple inside fed their laughing toddler scoops of their enormous sundae. Occasionally the woman would pause and wipe the excess ice cream from the little boy's face, gazing at him with so much love and adoration that Blaine had a hard time breathing._

_His own mother hadn't looked at him like that in a long time._

_Scowling, Blaine stabbed his spoon into his green scoops. He was just about to bring the spoon to his mouth when a shadow fell over him._

_Instinctively, Blaine jumped up and fingered the blade in his pocket, glaring distrustfully at the strangely dressed man in front of him. A beaten hat, worn coattails, and stray strings. And were those sequins? The man grinned and fingered his slick moustache, holding out a piece of paper to Blaine._

_Against his instincts, Blaine blinked and took it._

* * *

><p>"I think it might be a warlock." Blaine said. "That's what my dad thought he was last time. Malvagio, I mean." After seven years, he was still embarrassed about this? <em>Get a grip, Blaine.<em> Kurt was looking at him like he expected more. Well, he does deserve the whole story, right? "Look, Kurt, my parents…" Blaine trailed off, watching the road intently.

He felt Kurt put a hand on his shoulder and unconsciously relaxed at the slight pressure. "Take your time, Blaine."

"My parents aren't thrilled I'm gay." Blaine suddenly said. It sounded bitter to his ears, but hey, he was a bitter old soul by now. The hand on his shoulder tensed up. "When I came out, they didn't throw me out or anything, but my dad started to avoid me, which meant leaving me in motels while he and Mom went hunting. And one time, I just got so bored and so _angry_ I left. Without his permission." Blaine swallowed hard. "Um. I was out by myself and this man came up to me and gave me a flyer for this circus that started after dark, and it looked so cool and I was fifteen and bored and so damn cocky, that I went."

Kurt stayed quiet during his explanation, which made Blaine nervous. But he decided to press on.

"Yeah, so anyway," Blaine rubbed his face with his hand. Long ignored guilt bubbled up into his stomach. "The man gave me this ticket that said to come to this one tent for a special treat. And like an idiot, I followed. In the tent, these clowns attacked me and knocked me out. When I woke up, it was close to midnight and I was tied to a pole. There was another kid tied up a few feet away. A girl. Her name was Lizzy."

Lizzy. With wide blue eyes and long blond hair and a pretty dress with flowers on them. She'd smiled at Blaine when he had woken up. That's what Blaine remembered most. That even when the sweet teenage girl was terrified out of her mind and tears trickled down her cheeks, she still smiled at him and told him everything was going to be alright.

Blaine's stomach twisted again at the memory of that smile. "Anyway. Long story short. The warlock was planning to use us in a spell for immortality. He needed our hearts. We were both tied up and Malvagio was just laughing at us while his henchmen readied the site for the spell. My parents showed up, and fought with him, but in the end, Lizzy ended up dead and Malvagio vanished. We haven't been able to track him down but I guess the spell is wearing off…"

He cautiously looked at Kurt. The boy had his eyes lowered, as if thinking.

"So…clowns?" Kurt's eyes flickered up.

Blaine blinked. "Out of that whole story, you latch onto the clowns? Seriously, Kurt?" A little giggle slipped out.

He felt Kurt poke his side. "Shut up. Clowns are scary. I hate clowns." Kurt settled back against his seat, eyes glinting mischievously. "I'm totally being serious. Stop making fun of me! Fine, we'll see how well you handle it when I scream like a girl and hide behind you at the sight of those painted horrors."

"They're just clowns, Kurt." Blaine tried to keep his face straight.

"Murderous clowns, Blaine. I'm totally justified." Kurt cocked an eyebrow, his expression softening. "We're finishing this tonight. Ok?"

Blaine nodded. "Definitely." He was going to redeem himself.

* * *

><p>As much as Kurt loved the Mustang, the seats were damn uncomfortable after spending more than nineteen of the last twenty-four hours in them. He stretched as best he could, trying not to hit Blaine in the face while the boy slept. He was slumped over the steering wheel, head buried in his arms. Kurt envied the ability to sleep anywhere. Ever since the dreams started getting worse, Kurt tried to avoid sleep when he could. He fought back a yawn as he looked outside.<p>

The circus was finally winding down. The scattered tents were beginning to close their entrances and the few stragglers left walked past Kurt to their cars. A few clowns wandered the sparse crowd and Kurt immediately crouched down. He really wasn't kidding earlier. Kurt _hated _clowns. It was the smile. The permanent smile creeped him out. Kurt unfolded just enough for his eyes to clear the window as he watched the clowns congregate under one of the lamp posts and mutter to each other.

Huh. Weird. They kept glancing around and fidgeting.

And those outfits.

Granted, clown outfits were never fashionable, but even from twenty-feet away, Kurt could see the stains and patches on the jumpsuits. The patterns looked washed out and faded under the harsh light.

What were they saying? Kurt glanced at Blaine, who was still out. _Oh good Lord, the boy is useless._ Debating for a second, Kurt decided there was no harm in trying. As quietly as possible, he rolled his window down a few inches. Instead of the clowns, though…

"Are we sure this is a good idea? Is this even legal?"

_Oh my god. Shit._ Nicole. Kurt groaned to himself, cursing her idiocy. Did no one ever listen to Blaine? One her friends answered her and Kurt willed his eyes to pierce the gloom better. He couldn't see them, but the clowns definitely could. The five or so turned to face the fortune teller's tent. Kurt's eyes widened when he saw of the clowns, the one with fluffy blue hair and a polka-dotted costume, pull out an enormous knife.

Ok. Time for Blaine.

Blaine had his head twisted to the side, so Kurt slipped a hand over his mouth to muffle him and gently shook Blaine awake. Blaine jolted, but stayed quiet when Kurt lifted his finger to his mouth. Blaine's brows furrowed, but nodded.

"What's going on?" he whispered when Kurt lowered his hand.

"Nicole and some friends are here. Something about a dare to spend the night in the funhouse. The clowns are going after them." Kurt shrugged into his leather jacket. "What weapons are we taking?"

"Silver works best. But they can be wounded with almost anything. Warlocks are basically people that have sold their souls to demons in exchange for magic." Blaine handed Kurt an extra knife and bullets. "As for the clowns, I don't really know what they are yet." He checked his shotgun before flashing Kurt with a grin.

Oh hell no. "You don't know what the clowns are? So what, we're just going to wing it?" He was going to kill Blaine. He really was. God, he hated clowns.

"Yep." Blaine said cheerfully. Kurt opened his mouth to protest some more, but sudden shrieks interrupted his pending rant. "Showtime!" Blaine shot out of the car.

_Fuck._ Kurt steeled himself for a moment, trying not to freak out about the clowns. It wasn't working. He reluctantly followed Blaine.

* * *

><p>Nicole could not figure what the hell she was doing here. She pressed closer to her boyfriend, gripping his muscular arms tightly. "Jordan, do we have to do this? Can't we just watch a scary movie and get this whole experience from the safety and warmth of your basement?" The mostly darkened tents loomed eerily in the gloom and she suppressed a small whimper.<p>

Her friend rolled her eyes. "God, Nick, stop being such a baby. This'll be fun. We'll get to _live_ a scary movie! Right, Jon?" Sarah winked at her boyfriend and slipped her hand in his. "Besides, we have two huge guys to protect us. We'll be fine."

What a bitch. Nicole glared at the back of her blond hair. Why was she friends with her again? Jordan, sensing how tense she was, pressed a kiss to the top of her hair and gently tugged on her hand and followed their friends. She stayed silent as the group walked through the circus, looking for the funhouse.

"_Listen—don't go to the carnival. Alright? Just…stay away from it."_ The voice echoed in her head. The curly-haired man was weird earlier. He looked so scared when she mentioned the circus. Involuntarily she shuddered. She didn't like this place. Not even during the day. It just felt…off.

Nicole glanced in the shadows between two tents as they passed and shrieked, clutching Jordan's hands in a death grip.

"Shit! Nick, what the hell?" He winced, trying to move his fingers.

"There's something in the shadows! It winked at me!" She began hyperventilating. What the fuck was she thinking, coming here? She couldn't even watch scary movies without a pillow over her face during most of it. She buried her face in Jordan's chest. Nicole decided she wanted to go home.

Her friends were staring at her. "Nicole, there isn't anything there." Jon said gently. "We're the only ones here. Trust me."

"No you aren't." A new voice drawled, causing the group to jump.

A tall, thin man wearing skintight jeans, a black leather jacket, and an annoyed scowl stood in front of them. Next to him was a shorter man, dressed similarly though more relaxed. He had a matching expression and a head of curls as well as a shotgun that dangled in one hand. Nicole gasped as she recognized him.

"Wait, you're from the diner—" she started.

"Yeah. Blaine. That's Kurt." The shorter man interrupted. "Do you never listen? I thought I told you to stay away." He glared, and Nicole dropped her eyes, embarrassed.

Kurt scoffed. "Ok, party's over. Get out of here. Go." He made a shooing motion with his hands, and Nicole noticed he had a huge knife in one, the blade gleaming in the moonlight. Not needing another excuse, Nicole turned to go, but Jordan's hand fell on her should and pulled her back. Looking at her friends, Nicole groaned inwardly. Oh, fantastic, now she was going to have to deal with male egos.

"And who the fuck are you?" Jon set his jaw angrily. He was taller than both strangers and didn't take well to the disgusted look Kurt was giving them. "What gives you the right to tell us what to do? We're going to stay in the funhouse until dawn. And you can't stop us."

Kurt looked at him like he was single dumbest human being on the face of the earth. "Wait—what? Why? What's the point? And wasn't that the plot of some god-awful horror movie?"

Nicole felt her boyfriend stiffen. "We're doing it cause we'll bond over it and cause its fun." He said. A pause. "It was in the movie _Funhouse_."

"Yeah, I seem to recall that everyone in that movie _died_ you idiotic Neanderthals, are people really this stupid, Blaine?" Kurt rolled his eyes.

Blaine just shrugged. "Look, seriously, guys. This isn't a normal circus; you could get really hurt here. Please just go, Kurt and I can handle this—"

Snorting with laughing, Jon smirked at the men. "Oh please. There's nothing to handle. We'll be perfectly fine; you two just run along and leave us alone."

Kurt opened his mouth to argue but something over Jon's shoulder caught his eye. Instead of verbally abusing the blond, Kurt's eyes widened and he cursed under his breath. He grabbed Nicoles's arm and pushed her behind him, raising the knife. "Fuck—Blaine! Clowns!"

Nicole turned and yeah, Kurt was right. At least four clowns, each more tattered and terrifying than the last were a dozen yards away and closing fast, their teeth glinting in the faint light. She squeaked and hid behind Kurt, suddenly really happy that Blaine was toting a shotgun. She peeked over Kurt's shoulder and—what the hell?

"Blaine, warlocks get their power from demons, right?" Kurt asked quietly, ignoring the group behind them. Why was Kurt asking about demons? Nicole refused to move when Jordan tried to coax her off Kurt. She trusted the lanky, pale thing much more than her own boyfriend at the moment.

"Yeah, why?" Blaine glanced over in confusion.

Kurt inclined his head towards the advancing figures. "We got a problem, Blaine." He said nervously.

Nicole squinted at them. It took a second but—

"Their eyes are black!" Sarah shrieked.

Groaning in frustration, Kurt glanced at the other hunter. "We don't have anything that can fight demons, do we?"

Blaine sighed but lifted his shotgun, aiming down the barrels at the demons. "There's a bottle of holy water in your pocket. But other than that, no."

"Right." Kurt whirled around, glaring at the group of friends. "Alright. You and you," Kurt pointed at Jordan and Nicole, "You're with me. Blondie and He-Man are going with Blaine. We're going to run, try to lose them and get back to the car without dying."

"Dying?" Jordan repeated, pale.

"NOW!" Blaine suddenly shouted. He fired a shot into the closest clown, blowing a hole in its side. Kurt grabbed Nicole's arm and shoved Jordan forward, leaving Blaine with the other two. When Nicole looked over her shoulder, she saw Blaine booking it out of there, Sarah and Jon stumbling along in front of him.

She ran in front of Kurt, who turned to fling a splash of holy water at the clowns on their heels. The demons screamed, rubbing at their eyes as their skin smoked. Nicole didn't stop to observe further; instead she concentrated on her boyfriend's back and ignored her screaming legs. They dodged in and out of tents, with little idea as to where they were going.

Nicole's chest began to hurt from running but she didn't slow down. Because there were _demons_ after her. _Demons._ She pumped her legs harder, seeing Jordan pulling away from her and Kurt. With a cry, Nicole accidentally brought her foot down on a lone stuffed animal and tripped, hitting the ground hard enough to knock the wind out of her. Her ankle twisted funny and when she tried to move it stars exploded behind her eyes and pain ripped through her leg. She saw Jordan glance back and expecting him to stop and help her but—no, he turned away and kept running.

"Cowardly bastard!" A voice yelled from behind her. Nicole whimpered when she felt Kurt crouch down next to her. He looked pissed and glared at Jordan's retreating back. "Shit," he muttered when Nicole cried out as he touched her ankle. A few tents away, the clowns let out triumphant shouts at the sight of their prey vulnerable in the open space. "You can't move can you?" Nicole shook her head, tears leaking out of her eyes. Oh God, she was going to die.

Kurt swore under his breath again, and Nicole did not like that panicked look in his eyes. He whipped out his phone and dialed a number but held Nicole's hand tightly. "Come on, come on, pick up!" he muttered.

The demon clowns were almost upon them and Nicole squeezed Kurt's hand. She could see where their makeup was starting to crack and run and the half-smiles added to the overall terrifying picture. God, she hated clowns. Nicole hid her face in Kurt's shirt, her other arm winding across his waist.

"Blaine! Blaine, we—" He was cut-off by the arrival of the demons. The smaller one kicked Kurt's phone out of his hand while the other stomped on it, shattering the glass screen. Kurt glared and drew himself up, trying to look intimidating even as he crouched on the ground over a small, skinny redhead with a twisted ankle.

Nicole chanced a quick glance and saw three clowns surrounding them, each scarier and bigger than the next. All of their eyes were black.

The large one with curly blue hair snorted at Kurt's posturing. He pulled Nicole off Kurt easily even though she kicked and screamed and Kurt fought back just as hard. Unfortunately, the remaining two clowns gripped each of his two arms and restrained him with little effort. Not that it stopped Kurt from verbally ripping the demons a new asshole. Nicole felt her ears pink at some of the things falling out of Kurt's mouth.

The clouds covering the moon suddenly parted and they were bathed in silver light. The demon holding her froze, gaping at Kurt.

"He was yelling about some guy named 'Blaine' earlier right?" the demon demanded, his hands digging into Nicole's arms. The clown's face was inches from her own. She whimpered at the smell of his rancid breath and tried to turn away, but he just shook her. "Is that Kurt? Kurt Hummel?"

Nicole kept her mouth shut and shook her head, squeezing her eyes closed. Oh god she was a bad liar at the best of times; this was not fair.

"Hey, he does look like Hummel, doesn't he?" the demon with the yellow jumpsuit and an obnoxiously large rubber flower on the front said. He leaned close to Kurt. "It is him!"

Kurt took a deep breath. "_Exorcizamus te, omis—mmgh!" _

A thick, meaty hand clamped over Kurt's mouth, effectively blocking his attempt at an exorcism. "None of that now, Mr. Hummel." A deep voice whispered in his ear. The strongman chuckled at Kurt's white face. "We've been looking for you for a long time. Wouldn't want this party over too quickly, right?"

His grin chilled Kurt's soul, and he tried again to twist out of the demon's grip, but the hands that held him were like iron. Kurt stopped and just stood there, glaring at the two demons and trying to convey exactly how much he hated these creatures with just his eyes.

The demon tilted his head like a curious child. "Are you going to cooperate?" He sighed when Kurt simply lifted an eyebrow in a universal _the-fuck-do-you-think?_ gesture. "Alecto, take care of him."

Kurt swallowed, but opened his mouth like he was about to speak. Before he could, though, a large fist collided with the side of his face.

Nicole screamed.

* * *

><p>Blaine stood guard outside of an unfamiliar car. Sarah and Jon were inside the old Dodge station wagon. They'd lost the clown demons somewhere between the bumper cars and balloon darts, and were waiting for their friends. Silently, Blaine was starting to freak out. Where the hell were Kurt and the other couple? He double checked the salt-loaded shotgun out of nervous energy more than anything else.<p>

Sarah rolled down the window. "Shouldn't they be here by now?" she whispered, glancing at the forest nervously. Through the trees, Blaine could just make out the shadows of the tents.

"Yeah," Blaine said grimly. He felt his phone vibrate for a second before stopping. Glancing at the screen, he saw it was Kurt, but he only got the answering machine when he called back. Cold fear trickled up his spine. What if Malvagio had found them? Blaine wasn't sure he could handle someone else dying because of him. Especially if that someone was Kurt. He frowned, narrowing his eyes. Was that movement between the trees?

Blaine readied the gun and shot a look at Sarah, who immediately rolled up the window. Seconds later, Jon switched the car's engine on, though he remained in park. Seconds later, a huge figure burst out of the trees, stumbling and nearly tripping over its feet as it ran towards the car. Blaine raised the shotgun to shoot, but as he caught sight of the figure's face in the moonlight, he lowered it and swore.

"Fuck, Jordan, I almost shot you!" he snarled.

"Sorry," Jordan gasped out, stopping in front of Blaine and doubling over with his hands on his knees. He took deep, gulping breaths, as if he'd been running for a while.

Blaine rolled his eyes, but focused on the trees again, expecting Kurt to materialize any moment. But the trees remained still. He was about to demand answers when Sarah beat him to it. She'd climbed out of the car and crouched down next to Jordan, hand on his back.

"Hey, wait. Where's Nicole?" she asked.

Blaine turned around, eager to hear this answer. He was getting an idea of what happened, because Kurt would never run off without a good reason.

Jordan suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Um, we were running," he began, but stopped. Blaine crossed him arms and glared, Jordan winced but continued. "The clown things kept following us. And Nicole tripped and your friend stopped but the clowns were like almost there, so…"

"You left them." Blaine stared at him with a face of disgust. "Your girlfriend fell, and you left her there. And my best friend stayed with her and they're both caught."

Sarah punched his arm. "Asshole!" She continued hitting him. "You! Are! The! Worst! Boyfriend! Ever!"

Jordan's hands flew up to defend himself. "Ow! Stop! It wasn't my fault! They were dead anyway!"

Blaine reached down and yanked the boy up, dragging his face close. "They aren't dead." Blaine shoved him at the car. "Go home. I'm gonna go find them." He cocked his gun, took one last look at the ancient car, at Jordan's shamed face, at a worried Sarah, and an impassive Jon. Then he stalked into the forest back to the circus.

* * *

><p>The pain was the first thing Kurt noticed. As he groaned and slowly came back into consciousness, Kurt felt his head pounding incessantly and a thick coppery taste in his mouth. He spat out the blood and tried to stand up, but Kurt realized his arms had been tied behind his back around a pole.<p>

"Fuck…" Kurt muttered, squeezing his eyes shut at the sudden, sharp pain in his head the movement brought. His face must be a brilliant shade of purple if it felt this bad already. The demon had one hell of a right hook.

Kurt opened his eyes again. One of Blaine's many lessons rose up in his mind. _Always be aware of your surroundings, Kurt. Use them to your advantage. Let nothing take you by surprise. _ That hadn't worked out too well for him so far, and Kurt felt like kicking himself. This was entirely his own damn fault, and Kurt knew it. He also knew that he couldn't just rely on Blaine to save his ass; Kurt would have to pull his own weight here. He determinedly looked around, taking in his surroundings.

He was outside, tied to a pole. A large fire burned in front of him, casting flickering shadows on the surrounding tents. Near the fire, a weird altar stood. It had half melted black candles, a large silver chalice, a wicked-looking knife, and the corpse of a tabby cat. Kurt shivered.

"Hey," a small voice on his right said. Kurt twisted around. A small boy was bound the same way as he was, and Kurt could just see Nicole on his other side. The boy smiled nervously. Kurt recognized that blond hair though.

"You're Justin. Justin Delaney." Kurt blinked. The boy nodded, obviously confused as to how Kurt knew his name. "Nicole was handing out flyers. She alright?"

Justin glanced over at her. "She's still out. She was handing out flyers?"

"Mmmhmm." Kurt's legs were luckily unbound, and he twisted one under himself so his hands could reach his ankle.

"What are you doing?" Justin asked, staring at him.

"Looking…for…" Kurt grunted with effort as he stretched his fingers into his boot. He silently thanked his need to be healthy and all those damn yoga classes for the flexibility they blessed him with and he felt around for the—found it. Kurt relaxed his legs, feeling the metal file gratefully in his hand. "This." He grinned at Justin's confused expression. Kurt had no idea how long he had before someone came to check on him, so he immediately went to work at fraying the ropes. It was an awkward angle and Kurt felt his wrist begin cramping after a few minutes but he kept at it. Judging by Mr. Fluffy on the altar, he really did not want to be here when the demons came back.

"Brilliant," Justin gaped, hope in his eyes.

Though Kurt kept his movements precise and confident, cold beads of sweat popped out on his skin as the minutes ticked by. Without warning, a tall man in a beaten top hat strode into view with a flourish. Kurt immediately palmed the file and held his chin up proudly, hoping the man couldn't hear his heart pounding. He heard Justin whimper faintly. Thankfully, Nicole was still unconscious.

"You are a difficult man to find, Mr. Hummel." The man ignored Justin and Nicole and inspected Kurt unabashedly. He spoke with a slight Italian accent and looked to be in his late forties. He wore an old fashioned ringmaster outfit. Kurt had the feeling he was usually more polished, but now the man had dark circles under his eyes and his moustache was starting to escape the gel he'd put in.

"My apologies." Kurt managed to get out. "I was unaware my presence was being sought by so many." He shifted under the man's gaze. "Malvalgio, I presume?" The man carried himself with the air of someone important, so Kurt just took a wild guess. It appeared to be right.

"You're a smart man, Mr. Hummel." Malvagio stroked his goatee and studied him. "And before you attempt another exorcism, please note: I am not a demon so your words are useless." He smirked as Kurt's face clouded with rage.

He was human and worked with demons? "Traitor!" Kurt hissed, pulling at the unyielding ropes. "You're a human! How can you do that? Work for demons? They're liars and murderers!"

Malvagio shrugged. "They honestly aren't too different from most humans." He said absently, striding up to Kurt and crouching down so he was eye level. Kurt set his mouth in a thin, angry line. "I don't know why they want you, though." Malvagio mused, reaching out a hand and running it through Kurt's hair. Kurt shivered violently beneath it and jerked away. The man paused, but began stroking Kurt's cheek, which was almost worse. Kurt's stomach twisted and he concentrated on keeping the food down instead of the cool fingers on his face. "They promise me power. I do some things for them, the demons give me magic. It's a deal that's been going on for centuries."

"You don't look that old." Kurt bit out. He couldn't stop himself from trembling. Just as he was considering turning his head and biting Malvagio's fingers, consequences be damned, the hand grabbed his hair and bent his head back. Kurt let out a cry of pain and whimpered a little, his throat exposed to the world.

"They give me power, Kurt," the ringmaster whispered in Kurt's ear, yanking his hair so Kurt stopped struggling. "They make me a warlock. I just have to give them a few things here and there. Sacrifices…vessels…" Kurt slid his eyes to Justin, and wondered how many other kids had vanished over the years. "And now they want you. Imagine my delight when I saw you walking through my humble little attraction!" Malvagio chuckled to himself. "He's had demons tearing apart the US looking for Kurt Hummel and there he was, strolling through my tents with some no-name hunter." _Blaine._

"Who's 'he'?" Kurt cut in. He took a shallow breath. "And what did you do to Blaine?"

Malvagio put a long, thin finger against Kurt's lips. "Shhh. You'll find out who He is soon enough. As for your curly haired friend," Kurt felt the blood drain from his face at Malvagio's unconcerned shrug. "We fed him to the lions." Something flickered in Malvagio's eyes.

Silence.

"You're lying." Kurt snapped. "You don't have any fucking idea where Blaine is, do you? And that scares you. And your stupid, demonic minions." Kurt felt the metal file bite into his hand and he forced his fist to unclench a little. He gasped in pain when his head was yanked back again.

"Keep talking little mouse," Malvalgio hissed. "The heartbreak will be all the more bitter when your knight in shining armor doesn't arrive in time for you two to ride off into the sunset." He released Kurt's hair and stood up, looking down with an expression of contempt. "You're going to die tonight. Just like them." He jerked his thumb at the other two prisoners. Nicole was just starting to stir and Kurt hoped she'd stay quiet. "Although their death will be quick and yours…" Malvagio drew in a deep breath. "Yours will be torture." Kurt said nothing.

A clown walked up and cleared its throat. The paint on its face was fading slightly and the costume was undeniably ancient. And its eyes were completely black.

"We're waiting for you," it said.

Kurt kept still while Malvagio sighed and stood up. The file felt huge in his hand and he prayed to everything there was that the warlock would not notice his clenched fists.

"Duty calls," Malvagio sighed heavily. "Don't go anywhere," he winked at Kurt.

_Fuck you,_ Kurt thought silently. He settled for eyeing daggers at the man and that scary clown-demon. As soon as they turned their backs and left the tent, Kurt began sawing at his bonds again. He knew he had to be gone by the time they came back.

He wished Blaine was there.

* * *

><p>Hiding behind yet another tent, Blaine listened for any sounds. Like a million times before, the night remained mostly silent. He peeked around the edge of the tents, glanced around, and crouch-ran to the next.<p>

As soon as he found Kurt, Blaine was going to murder Jordan.

What kind of jackass abandons his own girlfriend? And lets guy he barely knew stay behind to help while he saves his own skin?

Blaine gritted his teeth. Ass. Hole.

He glanced around again and took a few steps out into the open.

Two clowns suddenly walked in front of him and Blaine scrambled into the shadows behind the popcorn stall before they saw him. Heart pounding in his ears, Blaine slowly calmed his breathing enough so he could hear their hurried and whispered conversation.

"…no idea what he's doing!"

"…be here soon…just have to…tied up, he won't escape…"

"Why does he want…just another human right?"

"Can't question…not our place…come on…"

_What the hell?_ Blaine leaned as far out as he dared, straining for every word. _Are they talking about Kurt?_ He took another step, then felt his heart leap into his throat as his foot landed on an empty popcorn bag. The crinkling paper sounded like a gunshot in the relative quiet behind the tents. The clowns stopped talking and looked around, but Blaine was already behind the stall, praying that they hadn't seen him. _Please don't have seen me…_

The clowns were silent, but Blaine resisted the urge to look around the corner of the stall. After a few tense minutes where Blaine was fairly certain aliens on _Jupiter_ could have heart his heart beat, one of the clowns muttered something to the other. Blaine heard footsteps as the two began walking away.

Deciding to err on the side of caution, Blaine waited until the footsteps were almost gone before he chanced a look around the corner of the stall. The clowns were nowhere to be seen. Calliope music began playing from the tent next to him and Blaine winced. There went his sense of hearing. He carefully crept out into the open, cocking his shotgun. His nerves were standing on end.

Swallowing his sudden fear, Blaine took another step forward but stopped at the sudden sharp pressure on his back.

"Drop the gun," a deep voice growled in his ear. It sounded like one of the clowns.

_Fuck._

"Drop it," the voice repeated as the knife moved from the middle of his back to the pulse point on his neck. Blaine swallowed, mentally cursing himself for allowing himself to be snuck up on. The knife felt cool on his skin. Blaine briefly thought about whipping around, grabbing the knife, and shooting the clown in the face. The knife pressed harder, breaking the skin enough so that a bead of blood ran down his neck and into his shirt.

Blaine was in deep shit and he knew it.

The voice growled in his ear again. "You are expendable. We only have orders to keep the little pixie alive. So I suggest you start cooperating."

Kurt. Blaine couldn't help Kurt if he was dead, so Blaine let go of the gun and raised his hands in surrender. His mind raced, trying to figure out a way to escape this situation. But he still didn't know what he was up against. Blaine took a quickly glance over his shoulder, and was immediately hit with the knife's hilt on his temple. Water watering in pain, Blain stumbled forward until a hand clamped on his shoulder and roughly steadied him.

"Eyes forward."

Blaine obeyed, feeling the knife press into his spine. What was he going to do now?

_Shit._

* * *

><p>Kurt had just finished sawing through the rope when a tall teenage boy with messy black hair and blue eyes burst into the clearing, shoving a smaller figure in front of him. His face looked familiar, though Kurt couldn't figure out why. A flash of dark curly hair made Kurt's stomach twist up. Sure enough, when the man was dragged up, hazel eyes met his own.<p>

The teen smirked, eyes blackened. "The clowns brought us some vermin they found skulking around."

"Blaine!"

"Um, I came to rescue you?" Blaine smiled sheepishly, a cut on his neck bleeding lightly and his temple rapidly darkening. Blaine looked around, eyes widening at the sight of Justin and Nicole. The teen forced Blaine forward and to the ground again, tying him to Kurt's pole so he was back to back with Kurt. Kurt held his hands still and hoped the ropes wouldn't slip and give away that he was free. _Dear universe, when I said I wanted Blaine here I did not mean like this…_

Fuck. He needed a plan. How were they going to get out of this?

"You're an awful knight in shining armor," Kurt commented as the demon clown stood up.

He felt Blaine shrug. "I left my sword in the car. Sorry."

The demon laughed. "Enjoy it while you can. The boss'll be here soon and I wouldn't want to be you when he arrives." He winked at Kurt. "Those nightmares are just a taste of what's in store for you."

Kurt felt the blood drain from his face at those words.

Nicole was waking up. "Ugh…where am I?" she murmured.

Malvalgio strode into view. Blaine stiffened behind Kurt. The warlock caught sight of Blaine and frowned, but then recognition lit up his face. "Oh, _this_ is Blaine? It _has_ been a while hasn't it?" He patted Blaine's cheek and Kurt could feel the tension rolling off Blaine. He squeezed Blaine's hand, trying to calm him down. The very last thing wither of them needed was to give away that Kurt wasn't actually tied up anymore.

Blaine just glared.

"This is like poetic justice. Maybe I'll use you instead of the boy." Malvagio tapped his chin thoughtfully. "No, I think I'll make you watch as I use them in my spell. You set me back several weeks last time, you know? Think of this as punishment." He snickered.

"I'm going to kill you." Blaine's voice was deadly. Kurt had never heard Blaine so serious. He didn't doubt that Blaine was telling the truth.

Malvagio faltered at Blaine's tone but shook it off, snapping his fingers. "Sael!"

"Yes boss?" The teen stood at attention, jaw clenched tight. He glared at the warlock.

"Watch the prisoners while I go call our master."

The young teen-Sael-saluted sarcastically as the warlock walked off.

He turned and sighed, rolling his eyes at the warlock's back. Blaine stayed tense, squeezing Kurt's fingers. Sael paced the clearing, muttering to himself. Kurt kept his eyes on the demon, but carefully maneuvered his hidden file and began working on Blaine's bonds. Thankfully, Blaine got the idea and kept quiet. "Two hundred years stuck with these fools. Can you imagine?" Sael stopped pacing and looked at Kurt.

"Can't say I can." Kurt didn't stop sawing, but his movements were smaller.

"He's been having us look for you for ages, you know," Sael continued, wandering over to the altar and poking at various objects. "Won't tell us why, just showed us your picture and told us to find you."

"'Us'?" Blaine asked. Sael wandered out of Kurt's vision and Kurt stopped sawing. He saw Nicole was awake, and tried to hint with his eyes for her to keep quiet. She glanced at Justin, who nodded, and she mouthed _okay_. Sael began talking and Kurt froze, listening intently.

"Demons. All of them." A manic glint entered Sael's eyes. "Now is a very interesting time to be a creature of the night, Anderson."

"You know my name?"

Sael squatted next to Blaine. "Sweetie," he began, smiling, "_Everybody_ knows your name. Or at least they know your father's. The great Michael Anderson." Malice tainted every word. Sael reached out a hand and patted Blaine's cheek condescendingly. "Many of us have lost family and friends to your father. There's a bidding war for who gets first crack at you after our master."

Sael smirked and stood up, walking around to Kurt. Kurt resumed sawing at Blaine's bonds. The ropes were almost cut through. As to what they were going to do when they were free…well. He's come back to that.

"So, little Kurty, have any good dreams lately?" Sael giggled.

"Shut the fuck up." Kurt's response was instantaneous. Even Nicole and Justin stared at him.

"Kurt, what's he talking about?"

_Blaine, shut up!_ "Nothing." Kurt said aloud. Now was so not the time for a heart to heart, what the hell was Blaine doing? Kurt felt the last of the rope give way, but he didn't dare move yet.

Sael, meanwhile, looked like Christmas had come early. "You mean you haven't _told him?"_ He laughed cruelly.

Kurt gritted his teeth as he sawed through the last rope. "Because it's no one's business but mine. They're just nightmares; everyone gets them sometimes."

"Ohhh, but not like these." Sael was suddenly next to Kurt, his blue eyes inches away and sparking with glee. "Your dreams are special, Kurty. They tell everything. The past, the future, Hell…" Justin got a faraway look in his eyes. "They have a purpose."

"They aren't real!" Kurt snapped. They couldn't be real. Couldn't.

"Oh, but they are. What do you dream of? Death? Decay? Or something else? Fire? Blood? Screams? Maybe you dream of Blaine here, all stretched out and vulnerable and dying from a thousand cuts—"

"SHUT UP!" Kurt roared, stabbing the file deep into Sael's arm. He didn't hesitate for a second, leaping up and tackling the demon and punching every inch of his body he could reach. The demon snarled and tried to throw Kurt off, but Kurt straddled his chest and held on tight.

"Kurt! Stop it!" Kurt could hear Blaine yelling, but fuck that. This little piece of shit was going down. He knew demons were strong and that it was only a matter of time before Sael would recover from being attacked by a supposedly bound hunter, but dammit, he was going to get in a few good licks before then.

With a deep growl, Sael's eyes turned black. Kurt felt something tug around his midsection and the next second he had been flung into the altar. His back hit the table with a loud crack, and he fell on his knees, panting heavily. He heard Nicole screaming and Justin crying, but Kurt shook it off. Shakily he stood, ignoring the pain in favor of glaring at Sael. He saw Blaine drop to the floor behind Sael and begin drawing something in the ground with...something. Blaine glanced up and met Kurt's eyes for a second and thank God they understood each other so well.

Blaine wanted Kurt to keep Sael distracted. Piece of cake.

"Nice shiner you got there," Kurt smirked. The entire lift side of Sael's face was already swelling and turning a deep purple. Sael glowered at Kurt.

"Fucking little pixie." He growled, clenching his fists. "If the boss didn't want you alive, I'd have killed you the second I saw you."

Blaine was still carving the ground up. Kurt kept his eyes on Sael. "I'd like to see you try."

Sael laughed out loud. "I like you! So…spunky. You know I could take you with one arm behind my back right? Or no arms. I don't even need to lay a finger on you." He lifted a hand. "I am a demon, after all." The hand clenched, and Kurt gasped in pain as he felt an enormous pressure surround his torso. His ribs groaned in protest and Kurt tried to suck in air but his lungs had no space to inflate. He fell to his knees, taking short, harsh breaths and squeezing his eyes against the _unbelievable_ pain.

"B—Blaine!" Kurt gasped out, crying out as his chest contracted even tighter. Dark spots began dancing at the edge of his vision and he heard Sael laughing. Just before he thought he was going to pass out, the pressure lifted, and Kurt fell forward, greedily sucking in oxygen and coughing violently. A hand massaged his back, then helped him to his feet.

"You alright?" Blaine asked worriedly.

"Fine," Kurt coughed again, but straightened up. Sael had his arms crossed, glowering at Blaine with absolute hatred. "What…?"

Blaine grinned. "Devil's trap!" He said proudly. Kurt looked back at Sael. He was standing on top of a crudely drawn circle with a pentagram a few other weird symbols etched around the sides. Sael looked ready to rip Blaine apart. "Demons can't escape. It'll also bind most of their powers."

Kurt nodded, rubbing at his chest. Devil's trap. He had to remember that.

"Who's looking for Kurt?" Blaine suddenly barked out. Justin flinched but stayed silent. "Why him? What are the dreams?" But Sael simply smirked. "Listen to me, you bastard—"

"Blaine!" Kurt put a hand on Blaine's arm. "Look, we don't have time to interrogate him. We don't have holy water; we have nothing to bargain with." Blaine still glared at the demon, but stopped yelling. Kurt sighed, but looked over at Sael. Beneath the cold eyes, Kurt thought he saw a hint of something else. And he remembered where he'd seen his face "Hey, Blaine? Sael's possessed. He's still a kid." Kurt looked at Blaine. "There are people looking for him." People who bothered to put up missing persons flyers in ever gas station on the drive to this town.

Blaine nodded. "Yeah, he is."

"We should free him." Kurt met Blaine's look evenly. "At least one good thing can come out of all this." Blaine glanced back at Sael, eyes widening when he recognized the teen.

Sighing, Blaine took out a small notebook and flipped to an exorcism. "He's going to be in a lot of pain, you know." Blaine said. "I think you broke his nose."

Kurt blushed. "Yeah, I wasn't really thinking at that moment."

From inside the Trap, the demon suddenly snapped to attention. "What's that in your hand?" he asked suspiciously.

"Guess you're going to find out," Blaine grinned maliciously. "Be ready to run," he muttered to Kurt, flipped open the small book, and began reading the Latin words. Kurt ran to Justin, hands making quick work of the knots. They moved on to Nicole.

Sael screamed and twisted, tendrils of black smoke trailing out of his nose and mouth. He roared wordless cries and the wind whipped around the clearing, nearly tearing the notebook from Blaine's hands. Sael panted heavily, glaring at Kurt and Blaine. "I will crawl out of hell and destroy both of you with my bare hands." Sael's voice was deep and dark. A few screams, later, black smoke erupted from Sael's body's mouth before bursting into flames and fading. Sael collapsed on the ground, crying softly.

Kurt rushed forward, cradling the boy and coaxing him to his feet. "Kid? Hey, can you hear me?" The boy nodded, his eyes wide and terrified. He cried out in pain when Kurt felt his face. "Shit. I'm sorry I hit you so hard, I didn't think…" Kurt looked at Blaine helplessly, already tearing a strip off the boy's shirt and binding his bleeding arm.

"We can worry about his face and arm later. Right now, we need to move." Blaine supported Nicole, arm around her waist. "The demons had to have heard that. Go!" Blaine half-ran, half-dragged Nicole with him until Justin held up her other side.

Kurt hauled the teen to his feet and pulled him after Blaine. The boy followed with little resistance.

A few minutes later, they heard a roar of anger. Blaine just swallowed hard and led the other two to where he hid the Mustang in the nearby woods.

* * *

><p>Malvagio bit his lip as he paced in the clearing. The extremely empty clearing, as his prisoners were gone. Vanished. Even one of his minions were gone—a teen he'd used purely for eye candy as he was not perfect enough to be used in the immortality spell. He let out a laugh that sounded more like a sob.<p>

He was dead. He knew it the second he walked inside the tent and saw the smashed altar. The boss did not suffer failures well. And now that Malvagio had called him all the way to Florida for nothing? Nothing could save him now. He turned to the demon next to him—Alecto, one of the clowns.

"How long until he arrives?"

"A few minutes."

Malvagio felt tears prick at his eyes. Odd. He had no idea he could still cry.

He wondered if his death would be quick or drawn out and painful. He hoped quick.

His head snapped up at the voices outside. He could feel his face paling. Could he run? His eyes darted to the trees.

"I wouldn't think about it." Alecto said sternly. "You'll only make it worse."

"Like you aren't dead too." Malvagio snapped, pacing again. "He won't let any of us leave here alive and you know it."

"This is your fault. I am merely your follower." Alecto smirked. "I'm going to get another chance."

"Like hell." Malvagio muttered.

The bushes shook and a tall, young man walked in. He had auburn brown hair teased up in a slight spike in the front and piercing green eyes. He was skinny, yet had an air of intense power. Malvagio shivered.

"What's this, Malvagio?" The man's voice was light and musical, as if about to laugh. "I thought you had a present for me? A certain Mr. Hummel with a side of Anderson?"

"Sir," Malvagio swallowed hard. "Um, Hummel escaped, sir." He squeezed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable blow up. Instead, the man giggled before dissolving into full-blown laughter.

Malvagio chanced a look at Alecto, who appeared to be just as confused as he was.

"I can see that." The man smiled. "You know what this means, right?"

Mouth suddenly dry, Malvagio swallowed hard. "We try again?" he asked hoarsely.

The man sighed. "Once again, Malvagio, you prove yourself to as smart as a particularly dim slug." His tone suddenly turned hard. "You fucked up and set my plans back. I do not enjoy my plans being set back." Malvagio let out a small whimper.

"P-p-please, Sebastian, please give me another chance, I-I-I can do better—" His voice faded at the look on his master's face.

"You don't deserve another chance." Sebastian said coldly. He raised his arm and Malvagio felt terror wash over him as his master's eyes turned pure white.

"Good bye, Malvagio."

* * *

><p>The teenager's name was Owen Kenney and he was seventeen years old and from Clearwater, Florida. After he told them that basic information, he shut up and refused to leave Kurt's side. Once in the Mustang, Blaine drove with Nicole sitting shotgun and the rest of the boys in the backseat. Seeing as Blaine was technically a wanted man, they decided it would be easiest to just go back to Nicole's house and leave them there while Kurt and Blaine went back to the carnival to finish business.<p>

It was a lousy plan, but Blaine couldn't think of anything better.

"I'm so sorry I punched you like that. And stabbed you." Kurt said, breaking the silence.

Owen shrugged. "It's alright. I said some awful things to you."

Kurt still looked sick, but didn't say anything.

"I was awake for some of it, you know," Owen suddenly said. "I could see everything going on, could hear everything. But I couldn't control my own body. It's the worst feeling in the world, being helpless in your own body." A tear slipped from his eyes. "I wanted to die."

Blaine inhaled sharply. "It's over now," he said. "You'll make it past this." Nicole glanced in the rearview mirror, but kept quiet. She was still adjusting to the fact that demons were real and that her boyfriend (ex now, probably) was a selfish ass. She murmured directions to her house and Blaine followed them without a word.

Owen shrugged at sat up as they neared the house. Everyone got out of the car, Nicole with her arm around Justin and Kurt still awkwardly holding Owen's hand with Blaine at his side. They paused, looking at each other.

"Thank you," Nicole said. She released Justin and threw her arms around Blaine, then Kurt. "Thanks for not leaving me and saving Justin." She cried as Kurt patted her back. "I can't imagine having to deal with this every day, but thank you."

"it's our job," Blaine put a hand on her shoulder and smiled. "It's what we do."

Nicole pulled away and wiped her eyes. "Still…thank you." She grabbed Justin into another hug. Owen turned to Kurt, a worried expression on his face.

"The demons talked about you a lot. They had orders to find you and keep you alive, but none of them knew why. Only that it had something to do with your mom." He hesitated. "They were really afraid of this one demon. He's name's Sebastian. He sounds like an awful creature. Just…be careful, alright?"

Kurt nodded somberly, feeling cold inside. Sebastian. It wasn't a new name to him, but Blaine frowned. He jumped in surprised when Owen suddenly leaned forward and hugged him. He returned it after an awkward minute.

"He has plans for you, Kurt. Don't get involved." Owen muttered into Kurt's jacket. He pulled away and eyed Blaine. Holding out his hand, Owen smiled when Blaine briefly shook it. "You're a part of this too. Help him. And thank you. Thank you both." With a nod, Owen turned away and walked to the door, waiting for the others.

Kurt watched him go, raising a hand at Nicole and Justin before climbing back in the car. Blaine followed soon after, and they backed out of the driveway. As they left the neighborhood, Kurt watched the sky slowly lighten. He'd have to talk about his dreams. Blaine wouldn't let him off the hook this time.

Kurt wasn't sure it was a bad thing though.

* * *

><p>They saw the flashing lights and sirens before they reached circus and make an unspoken agreement to keep driving. Three towns over, Blaine stopped at a motel and paid for a room. They were barely inside before Blaine had the news on. Kurt had an idea of what happened at went into the bathrrom, deciding to brush his teeth before dealing with it.<p>

When he came out, Blaine was sitting on the bed, the news still on. A pretty, blond reporter looked into the camera and talk about a gas explosion and arson. Kurt sat next to Blaine, but didn't look over.

"Everyone is dead." Blaine said as the scene changed to a row of body bags. Kurt felt sick. "I think their boss was upset when they found out you were gone." Kurt didn't reply, but kept watching the screen. The camera switched to an aerial shot and Kurt scrambled back on the bed so that his back was against the pillows by the headboard and drew his knees up to his chest, hands covering his mouth and eyes wide.

Next to the decimated circus, the fire had spread into the fields. But the pattern wasn't random.

_YOU CAN'T RUN FOREVER_

_SEE YOU IN YOUR DREAMS_

The threat made Kurt's blood run cold. He could never escape, could he?

"Kurt, we need to talk about your nightmares."

"No, we don't." Kurt whispered, refusing to meet Blaine's eyes.

"Kurt…" Blaine moved to sit in front of him.

"No!" The word flew out of Kurt's mouth instantly and Blaine flinched under his glare. "I don't want to talk about them. They're just nightmares, they're stupid and they'll go away." His voice broke on the last sentence and he buried his head in his knees.

Blaine sighed, and the sound hurt Kurt. He felt Blaine pry his hands from his legs, holding them tightly. "They aren't going to go away. We—_you—_can't ignore them. I want to help you and keep you safe and I think your dreams might help me do that. That thing is trying to hunt you down. It's powerful, strong, and ruthless. It also has a network of demons to do recon for it. We have a fifty-year-old Mustang, a twenty-year-old hacker, and maybe five other hunters we can trust. Look, Kurt," Blaine paused and bit his lip, trying to figure out how to word the next part. Kurt lifted his head and watched Blaine with a careful expression. "I want to help you. I want these nightmares to stop too. You haven't slept in like two weeks and I've noticed but you said you'd tell me about when you were ready. And I wish I didn't have to push, trust me. But we have literally _nothing_ and I just want to help you. You know what this thing is. And I think you know at least part of the reason why. Please, Kurt? I just want to help."

Why couldn't Blaine leave him alone?

Why did the damn boy have to push at everything?

Flashes of his last nightmare flashed across Kurt's vision, but he caught Blaine's worried hazel eyes. Huge and sad and guilty. Why would he feel guilty? The dreams weren't his fault. And then Kurt felt like smacking himself when he realized what an idiot he was.

He had to tell Blaine. If only to stop him from thinking the dreams were from hunting. From him.

"They started before I met you." Kurt finally said. He took a deep breath before raising his eyes to Blaine's shocked ones. "So it wasn't your fault; don't think that. I…" Kurt closed his eyes and fought back a sob.

This shit was just so unfair.

Blaine moved as if to sit next to him, but Kurt stopped him. "Wait. I just…need a moment."

_You can do this. Hell, maybe Blaine actually can help._

Kurt squeezed Blaine's hands, grounding himself. "His name is Sebastian." Kurt shivered at the name. "I didn't think he was real until now, but he must be, right?" He continued before Blaine could comment. "He's a demon. He's, um, different from other ones. His eyes go white when he's pissed or feeling really happy and powerful. He's usually in my dreams."

He fell silent for a long moment, looking away from Blaine. Talking about Sebastian felt like he was making him real. Like if he didn't think about Sebastian, the demon wouldn't exist. But the TV disproved that theory. The fiery letters danced on the screen.

Blaine caught on to his hesitance. He opened his mouth to speak, but seemed to think better of it and let Kurt take his time. He wasn't disappointed.

"I'm afraid of him." Kurt admitted in a whisper. "The dreams are from him, I think. He's just…searching for any way to break me and I don't know why, just that he is, and _Blaine_ he's winning." Kurt looked helplessly at Blaine. "I dreamed about my dad dying for weeks before it happened." He confessed; eyes downcast.

Blaine couldn't stay quiet at that. "What?"

Kurt nodded miserably, tears sliding down his cheeks. "It wasn't like, prophetic or anything. Just dreams. Most aren't even that clear. It's just…pain…"

_The knife plunged into Kurt's stomach, and ripped up through his chest, tearing his organs into shreds as he sobbed and struggle to free himself from the heavy chains hooked through his hands and feet_

"Nothing but me and pain and blood." Kurt wrapped his arms around his chest and curled in on himself. "Sometimes Sebastian is there." He whispered the demon's name, hating how it felt in his mouth.

"What does he do?" Blaine's voice was wrecked. Kurt looked up at Blaine sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes a mix of horrified, scared, pity.

Kurt looked away. "He hurts me." He didn't elaborate.

"Kurt…"

"He has plans for me." Kurt suddenly said.

"Plans?" Kurt saw Blaine tense.

"I don't know. That's what he says. Right before I wake up." Kurt ran his fingers through his hair. Tears were pricking at his eyes, but he felt a million times lighter than before. Carrying secrets was hard work, and Kurt wasn't used to having anyone to share the burden. It was nice.

That was all it took for Blaine to wrap his arms around Kurt and let him sob into his shoulder. "I can't believe you've been holding this in for so long."

Kurt let out a half sob-half laugh at the comment. "What was I supposed to do?" he mumbled into Blaine's shoulder. "'Hey Blaine, I haven't slept in weeks and keep dreaming about the really hot guy that tortures me every night'? You'd have dumped my crazy ass." When Blaine pushed Kurt off enough to stare into his eyes, Kurt realized that Blaine had been serious.

"I wouldn't have left you. We're going to figure this out, alright? We're going to stop these dreams first." The intense hazel gaze had Kurt mesmerized. He barely remembered to nod. "Sam can help," Blaine suddenly stood up, phone already to his ear. "We can look in some books too…" Blaine trailed off as he begun muttering to himself about different books they could research in and hunters they could call. Kurt watched in amazement. How had he gotten so lucky?

"I don't deserve you," Kurt shook his head.

"You deserve everything." Blaine smiled softly.

* * *

><p>'<em>I have plans for you, Kurt. You're my favorite, did you know? We are going to be…fantastic.'<em>

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Um. Yeah.**

**No songs for this one, sadly. Nothing really fit...**

**Also. So yeah, PLOT. Just a little though. As I know nothing about Sebastian, this is what I ran with. And yeah, he's supposed to be fixated on Blaine in the show, but fuck that. This is AU for a reason. **

**I'm not amazed with this, but I hope it works? It's a little angsty and dramatic but this is a guilty pleasure so. Enjoy =]**

**The next might take a while. Fair warning.**


	8. Madhouse

**Author's note-**

**Hey! I'm so sorry this took me forever. School royally sucks. If it makes you feel better, I'm uploading this at 1 am on a school night. and I have class in 8 hours. Who needs sleep, right?**

**Anyway, if you thought the last chapter kind of sucked and seemed off...it was. I'm not totally thrilled, but I was really, really stuck.**

**Anyway, I hope this one is more enjoyable! And as always, thanks so much for all the reviews/alerts/favorites. They make my day! And I noticed a random influx of everything last week- any particular reason?**

**Warnings for this chapter (possible spoilers)- scary situations, gore, violence, swearing, mentions/contemplations of suicide**

**Also this hasn't really been proofread so if there are any glaringly awful mistakes, please let me know and I'll fix them, Thanks!**

**Update 5/29 - grammar and tense fixes, as well as some formatting issues. Thanks for reading!**

* * *

><p>"Ugh, Blaine, just once I want to stay in a five-star hotel with feather beds!" Kurt groaned as he fell back on yet another nondescript motel mattress. He closed his eyes, pretending he was at the Ritz in some huge city and taking a quick break before heading out to a date. The scratchy sheets sort of killed the mood, though.<p>

Blaine flopped down next to him so their sides were almost touching. "Next time," he promised, turning his head and smiling at Kurt. Staring at hazel eyes, Kurt returned it. Blaine winked mischievously. "I promise that when we go to a big city, I will risk our lives and try to swindle their scary security so Kurt Hummel can have a feather bed." He laughed when Kurt smacked his arm.

"Damn right, you will!" Kurt tried to glare, but failed. Blaine was just too damn adorable to stay pissed at. He schooled his face into a stern look, but Blaine stretched his arm out to grasp Kurt's hand. Kurt stayed quiet and looked down at their entwined fingers on the ratty comforter.

It felt right; holding hands with Blaine. He slowly stroked Blaine's skin with his thumb, feeling content and perfect and happy. He looked up to see a beautiful face staring back with love in his eyes. Kurt never wanted to kiss Blaine as badly as he did right then.

The lighthearted moment passed in an instant when Blaine's face changed from loving to somber. Kurt's heart thudded in his chest at the nerves in Blaine's eyes.

"Hey. Kurt?" His voice was soft and careful. "Listen, I—"

The door to the room slammed open, startling Kurt. He bolted upright, automatically clutching Blaine's hand and fumbling for a weapon. He felt Blaine doing the same only inches away. A weapon. Kurt needed a weapon, needed something to protect Blaine because that's what he had to do. Kurt needed to protect Blaine, but their bags were gone and Kurt's knives were missing, _all _of them, which made no sense because Kurt knew for a fact there used to be one in his boot that was now gone. A quick look at the door, and Kurt saw sinuous dark shadows hovering in the doorway menacingly. They twirled around each other, pulsating. Blaine cursed next to him, still trying to find a gun or something while one-handed.

Before he could scream, dark shadows grabbed Kurt's arms and ripped him away from Blaine. Kurt kicked wildly as his arms were pinned to his sides. "Blaine!"

"Kurt!" Blaine dodged a shadow and dove for a gun, but it vanished before Blaine could put a hand on it. As Blaine stared at the floor where a firearm should have been, Kurt saw a shadowy tendril loop around Blaine's arms as well. Blaine shouted and struggled uselessly as the shapes dragged him next to Kurt. They were both facing the now closed door. Blaine looked up at Kurt, eyes wide with terror.

The shadows solidified into vaguely human shapes, but their faces were obscured. Kurt couldn't explain it; it was like his eyes involuntarily _slid_ over their faces and refused to register anything other than a skin-colored blur where eyes and noses and mouths should be. Their grip, though, was iron and Kurt couldn't move an inch. He felt angry tears threatening. Kurt had dreamed of a thousand ways to die over the past few months, but never was Blaine involved. This had to be real.

The room was silent other than Kurt and Blaine's heavy breathing and the tension began to build as they stared at the plain door.

Kurt knew who was going to walk through it the second the door began to open.

"Hello, sweetheart."

The smug voice washed over him. Kurt stayed silent, but glared deeply into those green eyes. He held his chin high, tears forgotten.

Sebastian chuckled. "Pride. You know that's one of the Seven Deadly Sins right? Perhaps you belong with us more than you think." He winked at Kurt's scowl and strode confidently towards the two captured boys. "The silent treatment? How very mature." Sebastian let out a put-upon sigh and turned to Blaine. "How you deal with his mood swings; I'll never know."

To his credit, Blaine kept quiet, but he shot confused glances at Kurt every few seconds. However, Kurt was too busy trying to figure out how the hell Sebastian had found them to notice.

"Anyway, time is short." Sebastian stepped in front of Kurt and crossed his long arms. Kurt calmly gazed up at him. "Have you thought about my offer?"

"The answer is still 'no.'" Kurt whispered. Sebastian's 'offer' was something Kurt would never consider.

Unconcerned, Sebastian shrugged. "Fair enough." He snapped his fingers and suddenly Blaine was next to him, the shadows still holding Blaine's arms behind his back. Blaine eyed Sebastian nervously and Kurt suddenly realized exactly how exposed Blaine's chest was in that position. His heart dropped.

"No, no, please don't—" Kurt screamed as Sebastian plunged a knife into Blaine's sternum and tore down, organs and blood spilling out onto the floor. Blaine's eyes filled with shock and pain before turning dull and Kurt could only hear his heart pounding in his ears and Sebastian's cruel laugh and could only see _blood so much blood oh my god oh my god Blaine no no no nononono_

* * *

><p>"NO!" Kurt shouted, bolting upright and nearly falling out of bed.<p>

The sheets tangled around his legs and Kurt fought his way out, a feat that took a few extra seconds as the room was still dark. Finally freed, he stumbled over to Blaine's bed, nearly hysterical and body still shaking from adrenaline and terror. The lump under the covers stirred a little, but Kurt didn't wait before ripping the covers off and scrambling up next to Blaine and forcing his shirt off.

"What the—Kurt? What?" Blaine blinked in the darkness trying to figure out what was going and why Kurt was tearing off his shirt. Not that he really minded Kurt tearing off his shirt; it was just that he had imagined that to happen in a somewhat more well-lit area and not while Kurt was sobbing so hard he couldn't breathe. Kurt's hands felt around his stomach as if searching for something and Blaine struggled not to squirm under the freezing fingers. Evidently he didn't find it as Kurt suddenly drew back, chest heaving. Blaine could barely see him in the dark, so he reached over to the night stand and flicked the lamp on, glancing at the clock. 4:23 in the morning. Only two hours this time.

He sat back, looking at Kurt. The other boy had almost completely calmed now, though he'd retreated to the foot of the bed and had drawn his knees up to his chest. Blaine saw that Kurt was covered in sweat and still trembling, so he waited a few minutes before speaking. This wasn't the first time Kurt had woken him up with a nightmare, though it was the first time Kurt had woken up _first_.

"Kurt?" he finally ventured.

"I'm sorry," Kurt wiped away a few stay tears. "I don't know what I was thinking. I'm sorry I woke you up."

"It's fine." Blaine sighed when Kurt didn't answer. "Hey. Come here." He reached out and pulled Kurt up to lay next to him. Shockingly, Kurt allowed him too. His moods after the dreams were volatile at best. Sometimes paranoid, sometimes scared, sometimes angry. Very rarely was he cuddly. But Kurt pressed up close to Blaine and squeezed his hand. "Don't apologize for waking me," Blaine said soothingly, stroking Kurt's hand with his thumb. "D'you want to talk about it? They're getting worse; I can tell. We're going to be at Sam's tomorrow, it won't be too long before we can put these behind us." Of course, Sebastian was kind of a problem but that was for another time.

Kurt swallowed, but met Blaine's eyes. "It's getting harder to tell what's real," he whispered. Blaine waited, but that was apparently all Kurt wanted to say on the subject.

He really hoped Sam had a solution.

* * *

><p><em>What'soever I've feared has come to life<br>What'soever I've fought off became my life  
>Just when everyday seemed to greet me with a smile<br>Sunspots have faded  
>And now I'm doing time<br>And now I'm doing time  
>Cause I fell on black days <em>

Blaine absently tapped out the beat on the steering wheel, humming faintly. Kurt stared out of the window.

They'd barely spoken since that morning, and Blaine was convinced Kurt hadn't slept since the nightmare. He studied the boy next to him in short glances. The jeans were definitely looser than they used to be and Kurt's cheekbones stood out sharply. Dark circles under his eyes made Kurt seem even paler than usual. The kid just looked exhausted.

'_He's just…searching for any way to break me and… he's winning…'_

What Blaine couldn't figure out was how; even when he looked to be on the edge of breaking; Kurt was _beautiful._ He desperately attempted to focus on the road, but his eyes were continually drawn to the brown-haired, blue-eyed angel next to him. Blaine felt like punching himself in the face.

God help him, he was falling for Kurt Hummel.

Which was definitely not something Kurt needed to deal with at the moment. He had enough on his plate. Hell, his father had died only a few months ago and now he was being stalked by a vicious demon that invades his dreams. Besides, Kurt couldn't feel the same. Though they did seem to be sharing the same bed more often than not lately…no. Blaine pushed all non-platonic thoughts of Kurt to the back of his head. He'd think about everything after the dreams were resolved. Yeah. That was a good plan.

They were only about two hours from Sam's place. With any luck, the walking blond encyclopedia would know how to fight against these dreams and maybe even what that demon was up to. Blaine thought about alerting Sue. She had a soft spot for him, for some reason, and apparently Kurt as well. Maybe he'd talk to her if Sam couldn't help. He should probably put Santana on notice too. The girl was headstrong and crazy, but also fiercely loyal and Blaine had a feeling that loyalty was going to count for a lot in the coming months.

_I'm a search light soul they say  
>But I can't see it in the night<br>I'm only faking when I get it right _

Kurt certainly had been faking before, but he finally reached out for help. And yeah, things looked pretty grim at moment; what with Kurt having daily nightmares and being stalked by a psychotic demon, as well as the 'coming storm' that every hunter kept mumbling about, but things would get better.

They had to. Somehow, despite all the crap Blaine had grown up with, he remained an optimist.

_So don't you lock up something that you wanted to see fly  
>Hands are for shaking<br>No, not tying  
>No, not tying <em>

Blaine reached over and grabbed Kurt's hand, smiling at the other boy's sudden surprise. Kurt relaxed after a second and smiled faintly.

"You're cuddly lately," Kurt remarked, smirking.

Shrugging, Blaine risked death by taking his eyes off the road to shoot a playful look at Kurt. God knew the kid didn't smile nearly enough. "Don't even pretend like you don't like it, Hummel." Kurt just raised an eyebrow, but squeezed Blaine's fingers a little tighter before looking out the window again. Blaine drew in a breath. This was a bad idea. This was _such _a bad idea, but now or never right? "Do you want to talk about last night?" he asked quietly.

_But I fell on black days  
>How would I know that this could be my fate?<em>

As he expected, Kurt didn't reply. Blaine sighed and switched the radio off. It was a commercial anyway. Kurt jumped at the sudden silence.

"Please, Kurt. You were terrified. I've never seen them that bad." But Kurt kept looking out at the Montana countryside. Blaine sighed in frustration. Kurt could be so damn stubborn. Sometimes Blaine felt like screaming at him to drop the act and stop pretending everything was alright when it so clearly wasn't and—

"I didn't know it was a dream until the end." Kurt turned tired blue eyes to Blaine. "All the others, I always knew. And it was always only me. Me and Sebastian." He laughed bitterly. "He's trying a new tactic now."

Well, that didn't sound good. "A new tactic." Blaine repeated.

Kurt nodded calmly. The look in his eyes was starting to make Blaine nervous. It was so blank and numb. Nothing like usual. Kurt's eyes were usually so expressive; holding a million emotions at once. Not like this.

"What tactic?" Blaine asked, a little afraid of the answer.

"You." Blaine frowned, confused. "Instead of hurting me, he hurt you." Kurt fiddled with his jacket's sleeves. "And I had to stand there and watch as he ripped your chest open and danced in your bloody organs." Blaine shivered, but he heard it. A slight tremor in Kurt's voice. He wasn't completely lost. And this would explain why Kurt felt up his torso the night before. He wanted to be sure Blaine was alive and not missing his heart and lungs. Unconsciously, Blaine rubbed at his chest through his shirt.

"Kurt…"

The other boy shook his head. "You better hope Sam can help. Because I can feel myself going crazy and I don't think I can last much longer." He stopped speaking for the rest of the trip.

* * *

><p>Sam Evans was exactly what Kurt needed. Dorky, friendly, and smart enough to not openly worry over him like Blaine had been doing for past three days. Kurt loved the curly-haired hunter; he had for awhile; but Blaine could so overbearing Kurt had to fake sleep sometimes in order to breathe. Not Sam. The blonde boy, who was actually younger than Kurt, took one look at Kurt, smiled, shook his hand, and immediately asked for his opinion on <em>Avatar<em> while guiding him through a house that was the wet dream of every nerd in the country.

Posters of obscure sci-fi TV shows and movies covered the walls and figurines of superheroes decorated every available surface. Stacks of comics lined the walls, and a huge flatscreen TV took up a whole wall in the living room. Even Blaine raised his eyebrows at the number of movies and video games his friend seemed to own. When Kurt mentioned how much he liked Nathan Fillion in _Firefly_, he was pretty sure Sam considered proposing right there. Although honestly? Nathan Fillion and Sean Maher plus a young Zac Efron? Every gay guy should be obsessed with that show.

Sam's house was actually a small, old ranch. It looked ordinary from the outside with its wooden sides and brick chimney, but inside, it was outfitted with the latest securities and electronics, as Kurt saw when Sam led them down the stairs and into the basement.

It was like walking into the _Enterprise_. Several computer screens were set up, one showing a map of the continental United States covered with red dots and another scanning codes. Huge servers stood in a corner. In stark contrast to all the modernity on one side of the basement, the other could have come straight out of a 17th century hunter's home base. Old papers and maps were scattered on a huge table and a whole wall was covered with every kind of weapon from scythes to swords to machine guns. There was even a huge cabinet that gave off slightly bitter fumes that Kurt suspected held herbs for spells. Books were piled around the room, ranging from old to so ancient Kurt though they'd crumble to dust when he touched them. A bookcase took up yet another wall.

"Welcome to my humble abode!" Sam spread his arms wide, grinning widely and obviously proud of his collection.

"Holy shit, you're like our Lucius Fox." Kurt laughed, amazed by Sam's workspace. It was incredible.

Sam gaped at him for a few seconds before turning to Blaine. "Marry him."

"I—we're not dating!" Was Blaine blushing? Kurt privately smiled to himself as he inspected Sam's impressive gun collection.

"Doesn't matter. Marry him." Sam waved his hand dismissively and leaned against the table, shifting some of the papers. "Anyway. Kurt."

"Hmm?" Kurt crossed his arms nervously. Sam's tone wasn't inspiring a lot of confidence. Blaine was at his side in an instant, mirroring Kurt's apprehensive gaze.

"I've been doing research on demons. You said Sebastian has white eyes, right?" Sam asked. He opened one of the thicker books on the table. From what Kurt could see, the book looked to be in Latin with a few graphic pictures of monsters eating humans.

Kurt nodded jerkily.

Sam sighed and ran his fingers through his blonde hair. "Look, I'm going to be honest with you. We actually don't know a lot about demons." Kurt felt Blaine's hand on his shoulder, steadying him. This was not what Kurt wanted to hear. Sam continued. "There's a lot of lore about demons but it's difficult to tell what's real and what's not, you know? And going up against a bloodthirsty demon with an experimental tactic is downright suicidal. Also, demons are actually quite rare."

He tried to repress a snort. He really did. But seriously?

"Well, they used to be rare," Sam amended quickly. "Maybe twenty or thirty possessions a year."

"But now…" Blaine said quietly.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Now. We're already up to fifty known ones in the past two months. Kurt, we just don't know how demons work. I've been through every book I have," Kurt suddenly noticed the faint shadows under Sam's eyes. "And there's nothing to suggest that demons can control a human's dreams."

The news hit Kurt hard. He hadn't realized how heavily he'd pinned his hopes on Sam stopping the dreams until Sam said he couldn't do it. "So that's it then? I'm screwed?" Kurt smiled sadly. He was stupid to think he'd ever escape Sebastian.

"I didn't say that."

Kurt jerked his head up and stared at Sam, who looked quite pleased with himself. Blaine frowned.

"Sam, what are you talking about? Can you help Kurt?" Blaine voice turned hopeful with the last sentence.

The blond boy repressed a smile. "Nope. I can't help him." He paused. "But I know someone who can!" He bounced a little with his outburst.

Kurt wondered if he was going to kill Sam or hug him first.

Apparently, Blaine was on the same wavelength because the hunter growled and glared at Sam. "Quit talking in circles, Evans, and spit it out!"

With a pout, Sam crossed his arms. "You guys are grumpy." He pouted. "Brittany."

The name sounded familiar. Kurt glanced at Blaine, who looked confused.

"Britt? Santana's girlfriend?"

Oh. That one. But wasn't she…

"That's the one." Sam nodded. "You know how Britt was always a little spacey? Well after the werewolf attack, she cleared up a little. Turns out she's a psychic."

A noise from upstairs interrupted Kurt's confusion. Sam looked at the ceiling and grinned when a female voice called out. "Speak of the devil." He grinned.

Brittany Peirce was exactly as Kurt pictured her and at the same time, completely different. When he walked up the stairs, a tall, thin blonde with sweet eyes and a blissful smile waved from behind a man in a wheelchair with an unfortunate sweater vest and glasses.

"Artie," he said, holding out a hand to Kurt. He watched Kurt with a hesitant expression and Kurt tried to hide his nervousness as he shook Artie's hand. Brittany barely waited for him to drop her boyfriend's had before she pulled Kurt into a surprisingly strong hug.

Kurt caught Blaine's eye over her shoulder. The hunter just smiled fondly, so Kurt gingerly returned Brittany's embrace. Though Blaine was always touching him—clapping his shoulder, holding his hand, hugs—Kurt generally shied away from human contact. Too many bad memories. But Brittany was…different. Not like Blaine, because Blaine was _Blaine_ and Kurt suspected that the boy craved the feel of another person (and maybe liked him—just a little, though, like a brother), but Brittany's touch made him feel warm. Tension drained out of him and Kurt felt his shoulders relax. He pulled away to see Brittany looking at him expectantly.

"Wow," Kurt croaked out.

Brittany giggled. "Feel better? It's not healthy to carry all that meanness and sadness around. It makes everyone else sad too and I don't want my unicorns sad." She squeezed his hand and winked at Blaine, who laughed.

"God, Britt, I missed you." Blaine walked up and threw his arms around her, holding her close. And—was that _jealousy_ that just flared up in Kurt's chest? Fuck. He needed more sleep. Brittany quietly asked about Santana.

"She misses you," Blaine whispered back.

Brittany smiled sadly but let go of Blaine and pulled Kurt with her to Sam's couch. Blaine sat on Kurt's other side, sitting closer than normal. Sam took the armchair and Artie wheeled himself as close to Brittany as possible. The way he looked at Brittany—as if she was the only thing that mattered—Kurt hoped he have that one day. If this thing with Sebastian ever gets cleared up…maybe with Blaine.

But Brittany was staring at him, her head cocked to the side. Kurt quickly wiped his mind free of Blaine and waited, hands still held by the psychic.

She released one hand and pushed back a strand of hair off his forehead, resting her hand there. She closed her eyes and, under the cool touch, Kurt did the same. Calmness flowed from Brittany's hand into his body and Kurt breathed deeply. He hadn't felt at peace like this since before his father's death.

Something pushed at his mind. Kurt relaxed when he realized it was Britt, and he knew instinctively that he'd have to let her in if he wanted her to help him. Slowly, Kurt allowed her to slip behind his defenses and braced himself for what she would find.

_Dad's funeral so sad wish he was here rain rain hazel eyes thank god for Blaine otherwise I'd go crazy…_

_ Want to help can't let people die and sit around doing nothing I just want to help let Blaine understand…_

_ Adult I'm not a child I can take care of myself why can't Blaine listen needs to get over himself I'm not a child…_

_ The road driving calming Blaine next to him strumming on the guitar and singing a pretty song and smiling just for him god he's beautiful and I don't think he realizes how perfect he is but he is he's perfect and sweet and maybe one day he'll be mine and I'll be his if only if only…_

_ Dreams dreams don't want to sleep scared don't like them can't tell Blaine yet he won't understand he'll leave me and i don't want to go not yet they'll go away i can deal with it icandealwithit_

_ Pain pain pain blood no screaming oh god oh god it hurts so much make it stop Sebastian Sebastian stop it no no no I won't do it I won't I won't stop it stop hurting him no Blaine please please stop —_

Kurt jerked away from her hand, breathing hard and blinking away tears. Blaine's arms instantly wrapped around his waist and he whispered words of comfort in his ear. God, that more intense than he was expecting. So many feelings. How could he feel all those things at once? No wonder Kurt felt like he was going crazy. But Britt—that was so much, could she handle it? Kurt forced the panic down and finally met Brittany's eyes.

She must have jumped away from him because she was sitting in Artie's lap watching him and Blaine with tears running down her face and Artie rubbing her back soothingly.

"My dolphins," Brittany whispered. Kurt winced at the pain in her eyes. It was his fault. He should have just dealt with the dreams on his own. He saw Sam get up in the corner of his eye.

* * *

><p>"Coffee," the blonde boy muttered as he walked out of the room.<p>

Sam's coffee was awful, but Blaine choked it down. Next to him, Kurt sipped at his herbal tea, holding the cup with both hands. Blaine saw the tremors, though.

Brittany still hadn't spoken since coming out of the weird trance she'd been in with Kurt, but she still looked like she was about to cry every time she looked at Kurt. No one else was talking either.

Blaine put his mug down and sighed. "Britt, can you help us?" He asked, slipping his hand into Kurt's under the table. Kurt stared at him, but allowed his hand to be held as he looked back at Brittany. Blaine didn't miss the small gleam of hope in his eyes.

Instead of answering, though, Brittany turned and whispered to Artie. Kurt's hand stiffened in Blaine's and the tension practically rolled off of the exhausted boy.

Finally, though, Brittany stopped whispering and smiled at them. "I can block the dreams." She giggled at the relief on Blaine and Kurt's faces. "It's going to take some time though. I have to get the ingredients and Artie's going to help with the casting so it'll be a few days." Blaine winced at the thought of Kurt suffering for even longer, but Kurt was nodding.

"I can handle a few more days," Kurt said quietly.

"Good!" Brittany clapped her hands. "Oh, and Sam doesn't know it yet, but he's going to get a case in a few minutes so you two dolphins can deal with that while you wait, ok?"

Kurt glanced at Blaine, obviously not sure if she was being serious. Blaine just grinned. "Wait for it," he whispered. He'd always noticed Brittany's little flashes of clairvoyance so if even Sam acknowledged her abilities, Blaine wasn't about to doubt her.

Sure enough, Sam excused himself to check his programs, and was back several minutes later with a sizable file and a bemused expression on his face. He tossed the pile of papers at Blaine and sat back down, staring at Brittany.

"You're amazing," he said.

Brittany giggled and snuggled into Artie's arms. "I know," her boyfriend said.

Thumbing through the file, the thrill of a hunt thrumming through his body. It wasn't too far away; just into Washington state. "You up for a haunted house?" Blaine nudged Kurt with a smile.

"'Course." Kurt smiled back and stood up. "I'm going to go check the car. I think the brakes were making some funny noises on the way over. Sam, can you show me where you keep your tools?" Blaine watched as Kurt and Sam drifted outside before putting the file down on the table and sighing.

It was such a relief to know that in a few days, Kurt would be alright.

"You care about him," Brittany said, fingering Artie's bowtie. It wasn't a question, but Blaine found himself answering.

"Yeah. A lot."

Artie nodded. "We could tell." When Blaine frowned, he continued. "You don't need to be a psychic to notice how you look at him."

Oh. Blaine hoped he wasn't too creepy. Did Kurt notice?

"No," Brittany lifted herself from Artie and sat on Blaine's lap, winding her arms around his neck. "Kurt's not thinking about that. But he likes you more than he liked Jesse." Brittany began playing with his curls. Blaine couldn't stop the small seed of hope from sprouting at that statement. Jesse had been Kurt's _boyfriend_ so if he liked Blaine more than him, then there was hope, right? Blaine sighed and squeezed Brittany tighter. "It's going to get bad for him," Brittany said sadly, still running her fingers through his hair. "He's gonna need you. And you're gonna need him. Please don't leave him, Blaine." Blaine jumped when she suddenly hugged him tight, her face buried in the crook of his neck. "Don't leave him."

"I won't." Blaine promised.

_I can't._

_ I think I love him._

* * *

><p><em>-Glenwood, Washington, Laurent Estate, 1904-<em>

The elegant woman set her crystal glass down on the mahogany table and sighed deeply, fighting back despair. This was supposed to be their shot. Their time. She turned her head to the great window that overlooked the estate's magnificent front lawn. The sun was long set and the moon cast a silvery light on the grounds. Absently, the woman fingered a lock of golden hair and briefly considered lighting a candle. But she couldn't bring herself to care about sitting in the dark. Lord knows she's spending most of her time there anyway.

"The moonlight is gorgeous, isn't it sweetheart?"

Her heart leapt into her throat as the deep voice spoke. She turned her green eyes on her husband, automatically standing, smoothing her hair and fixing her dress. Jonathan Laurent did not take kindly to anything less than a perfect appearance.

"Eleanor? When I ask you a question, I expect an answer." His voice was hard.

"Yes, sir." Eleanor whispered. Her heart pounded and she prayed her husband would be satisfied with her answer. She couldn't see his expression as he stood in the shadows but she could picture his dark hair slicked back and his neatly trimmed beard. And his deep brown eyes, which had once looked at her with such warmth but since moving West had become cold and angry most days.

She wondered how it had come to this: she and her children tip-toeing around the huge house Jonathan had built for them, terrified of setting him off. Anything could do it these days, from a too-loud giggle to a wrinkled skirt. More than once she had to usher her daughters upstairs into their rooms while Jonathan raged below them, breaking dishes and throwing chairs. Sometimes, she heard him talking to invisible people, long arguments that left him exhausted and emotionally drained. After his episodes, he often sought her out and cried into her arms as he begged her to stay and forgive him; that this would never happen again. But it always did.

Eleanor thought about taking Marie and Claire and leaving on the next train back to New York more often. Tonight was one of those times.

Instead, she hung her head demurely and silently prayed that Jonathan would let her be in peace.

A slim finger under her chin lifted her head up at she stared into her husband's eyes. "You think about leaving me," Jonathan said, his voice calm. A cold tendril of fear wound up Eleanor's spine.

"N—no," she stammered.

"Don't lie!" Eleanor cringed at his shout, bracing for a hit. When it didn't come, she looked up cautiously. "Tell me the truth, my love," Jonathan smiled, stroking her hair gently.

Eleanor swallowed hard and lowered her eyes. "I—" she stopped when the moonlight caught her husband's suit. His whole front shone wetly with a dark liquid. "J—Jonathan?" She reached out slowly to touch his suit. He remained still, allowing her to pull her hand back and inspect her stained fingers. "Why…why are you covered in blood?" Eleanor's voice shook as she stared at the deep red liquid on her hand.

"I suppose it's from when I slit our daughters' throats a few minutes ago."

She jerked her head up in shock. Jonathon smiled back at her, a content expression across his face. "You aren't allowed to leave me, my love." He lifted a bloodstained knife.

Eleanor screamed and choked as the sharp blade bit into her skin and pain blossomed in her neck.

"You're never allowed to leave me."

* * *

><p><em>-Present-<em>

The Laurent Estate was the most enormous house Kurt had ever seen and had it not been boarded up and covered in ivy, the manor might have been the most gorgeous as well. But the wood was old and rotted and the roof had patches of tiles missing and uncovered windows were mostly broken panes of glass. Only the bright yellow crime scene tape across the front door showed any signs of modernity.

Blaine pulled the car around to the side of the house where it would be hidden from the road and parked next to a sludge-filled in-ground fountain. Judging from the amount of algae and muck accumulated in the foot-deep pool, Kurt guessed it hadn't seen a cleaner in decades. He eyed the empty windows that loomed above the courtyard. The file detailed a violent and bloody history for the house and Kurt shivered at the thought of how many deaths this ground had seen over the years. It felt like the house was watching them.

"Creepy, isn't it?" Blaine leaned over to look at the Laurent Estate through Kurt's window, his breath tickling Kurt's neck. Kurt just nodded. "Looks like rain too. Come on, let's get everything inside before it gets too dark and I'll see if I can get the power on." Blaine patted Kurt's knee and smiled before getting out of the car. Kurt swallowed a deep sense of foreboding before following.

Inside, they dumped their bags in the dusty living room. Most of the rooms still had old furniture, which Kurt found odd. Wouldn't everything of value have been sold or stolen over the years? He picked up an old vase, inspecting the delicately painted flowers. This had to be worth a decent amount.

"Hey Blaine?" He called out. Blaine looked up from where he was searching one of the duffels for wire cutters. "Why is all this stuff still here? Shouldn't robbers have gotten it a long time ago?" The file said the house had been empty since at least the seventies so they certainly had enough time.

Blaine shrugged. "I've seen it before in some other haunted house cases." He finally found the wire cutter and grinned triumphantly. "Carry these for me?" He handed Kurt a set of jumper cables. "Usually it's because of rumors surrounding the house," he continued as he led Kurt into the basement. It smelled dank and musty and Kurt wrinkled his nose in disgust. Squatting absolutely sucked. "Stories and stuff. 'Steal from this house and the ghosts will kill you.'" Blaine deepened his voice and Kurt giggled. God, it's been awhile since he'd done that. And Blaine looked pretty happy too.

"So we just willingly walked into a house where the locals are too afraid to even steal from because of murderous ghosts?" Kurt raised an eyebrow as he gingerly leaned against the grimy wall.

Blaine pretended to think as he opened the circuit breaker. "Yeah, pretty much." He winked and began stripping the wires. "Hey, pull on that light bulb next to you will you?"

Kurt yanked on the thin chain dangling near his head. The bare bulb remained off.

Once the wires were stripped, Blaine began doing…something to them. Kurt just watched Blaine attach the wires to each other and the jumper cables in some complicated manner before—

_POP_—_CRACK_

Kurt jumped as the bulb crackled and sparked before glowing softly. Blaine grinned, looking at Kurt as if he expected approval.

"My hero," Kurt drawled, hiding a smile. Blaine frowned until he caught Kurt snickering.

"You're an ass," Blaine lightly punched Kurt, following him up the stairs and back to the living room, flicking on light switches as they went. Weak light pulsed from ancient bulbs, but it was enough that they could see in the quickly fading dusk.

The house smelled musty and most of the surfaces were covered in a thick layer of dust. Blaine dug out two flashlights, tossing one to Kurt, along with a container of salt. Kurt wandered over to the kitchen, ducking under the yellow plastic caution tape. The lights in here were mostly broken, so Kurt carefully trained the flashlight along the floor, taking in the dark stain and white chalk outline.

"Damn, that's a lot of blood." Kurt whistled softly.

"Beatrice Kennings, age eighteen, bled to death two days ago by means of a sharp object to the throat." Blaine recited, coming up behind Kurt. "Wow, that is a lot of blood." He knelt down and inspected the dried pool. Kurt nodded and kept exploring the kitchen.

It was unpleasant, with the linoleum peeling and the wallpaper hanging down in strips as well as the thick stench of old blood permeating the air. The counter was coated in dust except for one rounded circle where the faded blue counter shone through. Kurt stared at it for a second before opening the cabinets above the counter. Yep. There must have been a plate on the counter. Maybe it had gotten broken when Beatrice was killed.

Kurt froze. "Did you hear that?" he hissed.

"Hmm? Hear what?" Blaine stood up, training the flashlight around the room.

"That!" Kurt pressed close to Blaine, eyes wide. Muffled thumps and a hushed curse came from the entryway. "Blaine, do something!"

"What?" Blaine groaned. They still had no idea what was even in this house. He heard the front door open and he swore softly, motioning for Kurt to hide next to the doorway. Kurt did so, flashlight switched off and handgun ready, while Blaine did the same on the other side. From the other room, Kurt heard two voices: one he was fairly certain was a woman's and the other high and stuttering. He caught Blaine's eye and mouthed _what the hell?_ Blaine shrugged in response, equally confused. They didn't sound like ghosts.

"Israel! Quit your whimpering and get the camera out!" A loud smack and a whimper followed the woman's voice.

"B-b-but it's dark in here! W-wait, is that light?"

Kurt silently cursed to himself. The kitchen opened into the living room, so of course the intruders would be able to see it. He tightened his grip on his gun.

A flashlight beam switched on and shone through the kitchen doorway. Kurt tensed, but the beam could catch him from where he stood. Across the doorway, Blaine caught his eye and motioned for Kurt to wait. Kurt nodded slightly, pulse thumping. Booted feet crept forward and Kurt heard the man hyperventilating as the woman pushed him forward. Kurt kept watching Blaine, who held up three fingers and began to silently count down.

They were almost through the door when Blaine reached _one_ and jumped out, Kurt close behind and switching on his flashlight.

"FREEZE! HANDS UP!" Blaine roared.

Kurt almost laughed at the screams from the two intruders. The skinny man with an enormous red afro shrieked and leaped back onto the dark-haired, heavy-set woman with thick glasses behind him. Kurt caught the man's video camera before it hit the ground while Blaine kept his gun trained on the terrified pair.

Within seconds, the woman recovered and shoved the man off, smoothing her dark hoodie. "Who're you?" she asked bluntly. Afro-Boy hid behind her.

"I have the gun. I'm asking questions." Blaine snarled. "What the fuck are you two idiots doing? Don't you know what this place is?" He glared at them.

'Fro straightened up, casting a haughty look at Blaine. "Of course we know where we are. The Laurent Estate, aka, 'House of Death.'"

Kurt and Blaine exchanged looks. That particular name hadn't turned up in their file. The man misinterpreted their confusion and let out a put-upon sigh.

He dug around in his pocket and pulled out two dark business cards with a superior attitude. Kurt smiled thinly as he took one, Blaine gingerly accepting the other. He read the card, squinting at the light lettering against the black paper.

_Spectral Spies  
>THE BEST GHOST HUNTERS IN BUSINESS<br>(not trademarked, there's a space)_

Kurt raised an eyebrow at the pair, flipping it over.

_Spectral Spies is:  
>Lauren Zizes (expert and editor)<br>Jacob Ben Israel (cameraman and blogger)_

A website was also listed.

Oh joy. Amateur hunters. When Kurt looked up, Blaine motioned for him to follow him.

"Excuse us for a second." Blaine smiled tightly at Lauren and Jacob and pulled Kurt back into the kitchen. "What the fuck do we do?" He hissed to Kurt.

"What? _What?_ Why the hell are you asking me, Mr. Expert?" Kurt whispered back, smacking Blaine's shoulder lightly. "Don't you have experience with this kind of shit?" He looked back at Lauren, who was texting while Jacob was inspecting his camera for damage. Jacob took a step back and promptly tripped over himself, landing with a heavy thump. Lauren rolled her eyes and took a picture of him with her phone.

Blaine groaned and rubbing his face. "No, most people aren't this stupid." He watched Jacob stand up and sneeze. "Oh Lord. Ok. Um. Let's try to get them to leave." Kurt nodded in agreement, revolted at Jacob currently wiping his nose with his sleeve. "Alright, game time." Blaine sighed.

When they walked back into the hallway, Lauren wasted no time. "'Kay. Who're you two amateurs?"

Kurt blinked. "Um. Amateurs?"

"Yeah. We're professionals." Kurt stared at the woman. "We're here investigating the house."

"To put the tortured souls to rest!" Jacob interjected, video camera up and running. He pointed it at Blaine. "Please state your name and occupation for the internet."

Blaine glared at it for second. "Blaine. That's Kurt." Kurt raised an eyebrow but otherwise ignored the camera.

"Well, Blaine. Kurt." Lauren acknowledged them both. "This house is not any ordinary house." She paused dramatically. Kurt waited, arms crossed. Lauren lowered her voice. "There has been much death in this house. Israel?"

"Yes!" Jacob turned the camera on himself. "Hello fellow Spies! We're here at the House of Murders, also known as the Laurent Estate after the original owners. Built in 1902 by Jonathan Laurent for his wife and two daughters, he moved here from New York for a new life. Sadly, he went insane by the end of two years and killed his family with an axe." Jacob fumbled the camera as he took an old and worn photograph out and held it in front of the lens. "This is the wife, Eleanor, isn't she like, really really hot?" Jacob giggled until Lauren smacked his head. "Right. Anyway, the next owners were Richard and Madeline Strode and their daughter, Laura, in 1919. Madeline shot herself after a year and the husband and daughter moved out. But that's only the beginning," Jacob grinned.

Kurt felt a little sick at his complete lack of compassion. He had heard the history of the house before; it was detailed in the file Sam gave him, but these people deserved some respect. He didn't like hearing the deaths being rattled off like a shopping list.

"In 1934, the house opened as St Peter's Home for Children. The priest claimed the orphans were demons and managed to murder four of the boys with a knife before the nuns stopped him. Then in 1959, the house was bought by the Takagawa family. Do you see a trend here? The father shot his wife and son and tried to burn the house down, but was caught and sentence to life in a mental institution. The last owners were the Cassels' in 1972, a family with two children who lasted 3 months before leaving and shutting up the place forever. Until now." Jacob turned the camera around and pushed through Kurt and Blaine into the kitchen. He focused on the chalk outline on the floor. "Two days ago, Beatrice Kennings entered the house on a dare, but did not walk out." He turned the camera on himself again. "Who killed her? Why are there so many ghosts here? Can we put them to rest and save the town? We. Will. Find. Out." The camera flipped to Lauren, who held a thumbs up. "We are the Spectral Spies!" Jacob grinned at Kurt and Blaine, waiting for praise.

They were silent. Blaine tried to open his mouth, but was at a loss for words. Kurt stared very judgmentally.

"We're spending the night so if you two could clear out, that'd be great," Lauren opened a bag of M&Ms and began munching. Kurt noticed the sleeping bag by her feet. The statement seemed to snap Blaine out of his shock.

"Ok. No. You guys have to leave. You are way out of your league." Blaine began pushing a resisting Jacob out of the room. "Go, get out while you still can—" He froze. The flashlights were flickering.

Puzzled, Lauren smacked hers, but the beam continued to waver. Blaine let go of Jacob, looking pointedly at Kurt. They both readied their guns, eyes darting everywhere.

There. Behind Jacob. A thin blonde woman, her back to them, stood, shaking. Kurt recognized the blue dress as a style from the early 1900s. She was crying softly.

"Israel—the camera!" Lauren hissed. Jacob hurriedly brought the camera up, the light shining on the woman.

She flickered—disappeared—reappeared in front of Jacob, who screamed and scrambled away. The woman—Kurt thought she might be Eleanor Laurent—had red eyes from crying as well as a mangled and bloodied throat. She gestured wildly, mouth opening and closing but only small grunts coming out.

"Blaine…" Kurt muttered. "I think she's trying to tell us something."

Eleanor was practically sobbing with frustration when all the lights went out and Kurt heard the unmistakable sound of locks engaging all over the house.

"Fuck."

* * *

><p>"Everything thing's locked." Blaine scowled as he walked back into the living room. The flashlights were working again, but he and Kurt had scrounged up a few gas lanterns from the basement that were set around the room. Jacob was huddled on the floor, shaking while Lauren casually ate her way through another package of candy. Blaine rolled his eyes at them and turned to Kurt.<p>

"Phone's are out." Kurt sighed. "Lauren's been trying ever couple of minutes since you left but there's no signal."

"Awesome." Blaine muttered. He knelt down and opened one of their duffels. At the very least, they were probably dealing with a ghost. Or multiple ghosts. Either way, getting out of this house alive tonight would harder than Blaine expected and now he had to keep two idiot civilians safe as well. Shaking his head, Blaine grabbed the salt and tossed it to Jacob, who barely caught it.

"What's this for?" Jacob sniffed at the container suspiciously. Blaine closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe deeply. And not rip that Jew-fro out of the kid's head.

Luckily, Kurt answered first. "Salt can keep some ghosts away. Just like iron. If a ghost comes into contact with it, they lose their hold on our world for a little while." Kurt took one the guns Blaine was holding and checked the bullets. "Or salt can be used as a barrier to prevent a ghost from attacking you." Satisfied, Kurt stuck the gun in his coat pocket. "I thought you guys were ghost hunters. Don't you know about this?"

Blaine rolled his eyes. These two wouldn't know a ghost if one came up and bit them in the ass then tap danced across their nose.

Jacob stared at Kurt. "Wait so you guys are like, ghost hunters?"

Kurt shrugged. "Among other things."

Blaine ignored them as Lauren and Jacob began arguing with Kurt about the finer points of tracking a ghost. Enough. They needed information. This house had to have some answers about how to put the ghosts to rest.

"Alright. Shut up!" Blaine glared. Jacob and Lauren fell silent while Kurt raised an eyebrow, obviously amused. Blaine ignored him. "We need to know more about what's going on in this house if we're going to make it out of tonight alive."

"Alive?" Jacob paled and Lauren smacked his head again.

This was like working with children. "Yeah, alive. Clearly the last guest didn't go over too well," Blaine stared pointedly at the entrance to the kitchen next to Kurt. Lauren shifted closer to Jacob. Blaine sighed. "Since it's obvious that you two have absolutely no idea what you're doing, I think we should split up. Kurt, you and Lauren can search the upstairs and I'll take Jacob and check the basement real quick." Blaine shot a _you owe _me look at Kurt. "Then we'll join you upstairs. There's nothing else on this floor, but if the basement and the upstairs are clear we can search this again."

Jacob raised his hand. Blaine rolled his eyes. "Yes, Jacob?"

"Um, what are we looking for?" Blaine blanched. Even Kurt looked interested.

"Uh, anything that has to do with the deaths here. Papers, things that might have human remains. Like hair or blood," he clarified. "Anything out of the ordinary."

Kurt uncrossed his arms and patted Lauren's shoulder. "Sounds good. Come on, Zizes. Adventures await." He guided the girl out of the room and into the foyer.

Watching them go, Blaine silently prayed for the strength to not strangle the boy next to him.

"Guess it's you and me, buddy!" Jacob grinned. Then sneezed and wiped his nose with his hand.

This was not going to go well. Kurt owed him forever. And the kid was taking out the camera.

* * *

><p>"So, Blaine Anderson, what is your relationship with Kurt Hummel?"<p>

Blaine stopped on the stairs and glared at the camera, wincing a little at the bright light shining in his face. "That's none of your business." He turned and kept walking, Jacob following with the camera.

"So you like him?" Blaine didn't answer. "Does he know? Did you tell him yet?" Good lord, this kid never shut up. "Are you gay?"

"Yes." Blaine shined his flashlight around the basement. It was dark and dank, with cement walls and floor and cardboard boxes piled in every corner. He pulled a few times on the light bulb string but the bulb remained stubbornly dark.

"Top or bottom?"

"Seriously?" Blaine yelped. "I will shoot you. Don't test me." He narrowed his eyes at Jacob, who gulped and nodded. Blaine grabbed one the boxes at glanced inside. Children's toys. He put it back.

Jacob filmed him searching a tall metal cabinet for a few minutes before getting bored. Blaine kept rubbing his forehead for some reason. Jacob considered asking about it, but Blaine's earlier threat made him think twice. Instead, Jacob decided to wander around the basement to possibly get more footage. The ghost from earlier had been _amazing_, and he knew traffic from the web would skyrocket once the video was uploaded. Plus Lauren might let him touch her boobs.

But this house had to have more ghosts and he'd seen the pictures of the murder victims and some of the ladies were _hot_. Jacob shifted; his pants slightly tight. Just because they're dead doesn't mean he couldn't admire, right?

The camera's light illuminated more boxes. He couldn't see Blaine anymore but he heard the man's mutterings. Jacob rolled his eyes. What a douche. Him and his partner. He _knew_ what salt did to ghosts; he just _forgot_. It wasn't his fault.

Jacob stopped. Was that…crying? He peeked around a stack of boxes and nearly dropped his camera. There, in the middle of the space, was a slime brunette with beautiful brown eyes. Her arms were wrapped around her thin frame as she sobbed. "Help me…" she cried, reaching out to Jacob.

Hot. _Damn._ Jacob quickly tried to smooth his hair down, which refused to cooperate. But whatever. A sexy lady was reaching out to _him_ for help. Jacob couldn't believe it. Take that, Blaine Anderson. He stepped closer to the woman, not noticing the gun in her hands.

* * *

><p>When Blaine looked up from the musty files, it took him a moment to realize Jacob wasn't hanging around with the damn video camera. He looked around, grabbing the flashlight and pointing it all around. Nothing.<p>

_Shit._

Where the fuck could the kid go? Blaine began walking, working his way through the maze of boxes stacked in the room. _God, he's so annoying. When I find him, I should just shoot him and put him out of his misery. _Blaine stopped and blinked. Where had that thought come from? A stabbing pain erupted behind his eyes and Blaine winced, pressing the heels of his hand to his forehead. He had no idea why these headaches suddenly decided to start. But they seemed to stop just as quickly. Maybe he'd grab some Tylenol or something after he found Jacob. Blaine sighed in relief when the pain subsided. He looked around another stack of boxes, No Jacob. Just before Blaine was about to panic, there was a high-pitched scream followed by a loud bang.

"Jacob!" Blaine shouted and bolted down row of boxes. He couldn't tell where the screams came from until there was a second, and moments later Blaine stumbled into an open space.

A beautiful woman in a slim cream dress and a bob cut stood over Jacob, a gun in her hands. Jacob lay on the floor, clutching his left arm. His shirt had a growing red stain. A few feet away, his video camera sat on a box, though it looked unharmed.

The woman looked up, startled, but Blaine raised his shotgun and fired. She vanished in a hail of small flames. Jacob was incoherent at this point, delirious with pain and fear. He babbled on and on the woman, who Blaine recognized as Madeline Strode, while Blaine carried him back upstairs to the first aid kit. Jacob clutched his video camera and moaned.

Blaine didn't like this. The ghosts here could interact a little too well with the material world for comfort. And this was the first time he'd ever heard of a ghost shooting someone.

Hopefully Kurt was having better luck.

* * *

><p>As it turned out, Kurt was not.<p>

The second floor was dark, with a thick carpet that muffled Kurt and Lauren's footsteps and creepy portraits on the wall that seemed to follow them. Kurt had already walked through several cobwebs which was _not_ okay because spiders? No. Lauren wasn't helping either. She had moved on to gum and was currently chomping on it loudly and blowing bubbles. Good. Lord.

"When are you gonna tell Anderson you're in love with him?"

Kurt whipped his head around and stared at Lauren in shock. She winced at the light from his flashlight but otherwise looked bored. "Excuse me?" Kurt managed, blushing.

Lauren blew another bubble. "I don't have to be psychic to know you got it bad for the guy. And I'm gonna assume he's gay by how he looks at you too." She opened one of the doors and peered in. "So. When are you two gonna get it on?"

Kurt rolled his eyes and pushed past her into the room. It looked like a child's bedroom. Two twin beds sat next to each other with a dresser between them. A toy chest was under the window and Kurt could see toys strewn across the floor in the faint moonlight. Surprisingly, the mirror above the dresser was still intact. Kurt touched the comforters; they had a princess pattern on them. Lauren hit the light switch just in case, but to their surprise, the lamps flickered to life. Though the room was dusty, dirty and abandoned, Kurt could see how it must have looked with two little girls living in it. Full of life and happiness. Instead of cold and dark and abandoned. He sat on the edge of one of the beds.

"We're not going to 'get it on.' Blaine's my friend." He finally said in answer to Lauren's question.

Lauren sat on the opposite bed, eying him up and down. Kurt fought the urge to shiver.

"Blaine likes you too. I don't get it." Kurt had to admire how she said whatever she wanted. He wished he could too. But he couldn't.

"I can't be with Blaine." The words hurt his chest. Kurt kept his eyes downcast.

He felt Lauren rolling her eyes. "Why not? Do you even have a good reason?"

_Because I have a crazy demon stalker who wants me to do things and he'll kill Blaine if he thinks it will help me break. And I can't put Blaine in that kind of danger._

"I just can't!" Kurt snapped, shoving his thoughts aside.

Lauren stared at him but Kurt ignored her in favor of examining the dresser. He yanked the drawers out roughly, shoving them back in with they were empty. Lauren opened her mouth to say something but thought better of it and wandered over to the toy chest. They worked in silence for a few minutes before the lights began flickering. Kurt turned around, slowly drawing out his gun. Lauren edged her way closer to him.

Kurt focused on keeping the gun steady and glanced around the room, not sure what to expect. Suddenly, two little girls stood before him, holding hands.

The girls looked to be around eight and six respectively; both wearing braided pigtails and plain white nightgowns. Their eyes were sunken and dark, staring at Kurt and Lauren calmly. Kurt recognized them.

"Marie and Claire." Kurt breathed. The two daughters the original owner murdered. The girls flickered, appeared coated in blood and cuts, and reappeared clean. The older one laughed.

"You're going to die in here." She told Kurt, her voice echoing slightly.

"Everyone does." The smaller one said sadly. The girls vanished.

Kurt stared at the spot before turning to Lauren. She looked slightly queasy. "Come on," Kurt muttered, beckoning for her to follow him. Before they could leave, however, a little boy blocked their path.

Jumping back, Kurt nearly knocked Lauren over but she kept him on his feet. The little boy sniffled, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his school uniform. It was cut and Kurt saw the boy was still bleeding from wounds all over his tiny boy. He cried while Kurt and Lauren watched.

"You have to leave!" The boy sobbed. His huge blue eyes focused on Kurt and Lauren. "He doesn't like you and you have to leave, now!" He appeared to see someone over Kurt's shoulder and his eyes widened before the boy vanished, leaving an open doorway.

Lauren pushed Kurt from behind. "I don't like this. I want to find Blaine." Kurt had never heard a better idea in his life. They bolted from room, nearly tripping over each other as they raced to the stairs. Before Kurt ran down, he looked over his shoulder and almost fell over.

At the end of the hallway, in front of the huge window, a dark shadow stood. As Kurt watched, it lifted a hand and waved mockingly.

Kurt hated haunted houses.

They found Blaine patching up Jacob with one of the first aid kits Kurt had packed. Blaine was almost done wrapping Jacob's arm but the scowl on his friend's face made Kurt wonder what the hell Jacob did to piss him off so much.

"What happened to you?" Lauren asked Jacob. The kid launched into a story about a ghost that had shot him and how Blaine had rescued him. He was clutching his video camera like a lifeline and as soon as Blaine finished with his arm, Jacob scooted as far away from Blaine as possible. Kurt frowned.

"Hey. You alright?" Kurt asked quietly, touching Blaine's shoulder.

"Fine." Blaine twisted away from Kurt's hand. Kurt raised his eyebrow. What the hell was that? Blaine was a like a junkie when it came to human touch. And he never shunned Kurt's. But at the look on Blaine's face, Kurt decided to drop it. He noticed Blaine rubbing his forehead.

Lauren waved the video camera. "Yo, Hummel. Get over here. Israel says he got the ghost on camera." Blaine didn't appear to care, but Kurt walked over and leaned over Jacob's shoulder. As Jacob rewound the tape, Kurt felt Blaine come up next to him.

"I'm sorry," Blaine muttered. Kurt looked at him. Blaine had a miserable expression and was pale in the screen's light. "I just keep getting these awful headaches and Jacob and his shrieking wasn't helping." Jacob was about to protest but was cut off by Lauren elbowing him sharply in the ribs.

"It's ok." Kurt said. "Just don't do it again. I'm not the enemy here." He turned back to the video camera's screen. Blaine stepped close behind and Kurt's heart fluttered. Bad thoughts, bad thoughts…

The screen showed a thin woman Kurt thought was Madeline Strode. She had her arms wrapped around her waist and tears poured from her red-rimmed eyes.

"_Help me,"_ sh e said, reaching out with one pale hand.

The picture shook as Jacob walked closer and put the camera down on a nearby box. The angle showed Jacob walking towards the woman, hands out. The woman suddenly winced in pain and put her head in her hands.

"_Hurts…"_ she whimpered.

"_What's going on? You alright? You're really hot." _On-camera Jacob licked his lips.

Kurt grimaced and looked at the real Jacob, who flushed. "Just keep watching…" the boy muttered.

"_My head! It hurts, make it stop!"_ Madeline dodged Jacob's hand and turned away from the camera. She started up a steady stream of muttering. Lauren reached over and turned the volume up all the way. Kurt could only hear a few words. _"…hurts…no…I don't…can't…hurt them…please don't make me hurt them…kill…shoot…tear…rip…blood…"_ She started giggling, high and hysterical. Video Jacob looked terrified but he still reached out.

"_Madeline?" _

The woman turned around, a large bullet hole in the center of her forehead. She smiled serenely, as Jacob screamed, then she lifted the gun in her hand and shot Jacob. When Jacob clutched his arm and collapsed, she frowned, obviously upset that she missed. Jacob screamed again, and a few seconds later, Madeline looked off-screen, surprised. Another bang; and she erupted in a shower of flames. Then Blaine was there, helping Jacob stand and grabbing the camera.

Jacob paused the video.

Kurt spoke first. "Rewind it a little." He frowned, eyes narrowed. Jacob did as he asked until Kurt started. "Stop." He pointed. "See that?" Everyone leaned closer to the small screen. It was hard to see but right after Madeline shot Jacob, there was a dark figure behind her. Lauren gasped.

"That looks like…"

"Yeah." Kurt looked at Blaine. "We saw that shadow upstairs. After the Laurent girls told us we were going to die in this house and a little boy warned us to get out because someone doesn't like us. Blaine, are you sure you're alright?" The last sentence was said with concern as Blaine held his head in his head and let out a small moan of pain.

"Fine. Fine, I'm fine, it just hurts…" Blaine stumbled away and sat down on the threadbare chair. Kurt rooted through the first aid kit and grabbed some pills as well as a water bottle. He handed them to Blaine. "Thanks," Blaine tried to smile as he tossed back the painkillers. "God, these migraines suck."

"They look like they hurt." Jacob put in.

"Well no shit, Jacob!" Blaine yelled. Jacob paled and stepped back. Blaine glared, but let Kurt rub his shoulder and slowly relaxed.

Kurt frowned and caught Lauren's eye, but shook his head. The girl wasn't stupid; she had to be thinking the same thing his was. But this was Blaine. They must just be headaches; it didn't have to be related to the house. She didn't look happy, but Lauren stayed quiet. Jacob was clueless as ever, but was terrified of Blaine.

Kurt decided he was going to keep an eye on Blaine the rest of the night. This could just be a stress thing. And Kurt was pretty sure Jacob was enough to make anyone homicidal.

He just hoped this wasn't the house working on Blaine.

* * *

><p>Lauren sat on the floor next to Jacob while Blaine finished making a large circle of salt around them. Kurt reloaded Blaine's shotgun while he waited.<p>

"Remind me why I have to wait here while you and Kurt get to go off and have fun?" Lauren glared at Blaine.

"Because Jacob is injured and refuses to wait by himself. And Kurt actually knows what he's doing and I trust him to have my back." Blaine flashed a smile at Kurt before turning back to Lauren. "Now I mean this. Stay in this circle and you'll be safe. Not one toe goes over this line." He pointed at the salt. "That goes for you too, Jacob. And turn that damn thing off!" Blaine swiped at the video camera but Jacob yanked it out of the way. "Fine. Whatever." Blaine rolled his eyes.

_Shoot him. Kill him. And the girl. No one would miss them and you'll be able to protect Kurt better without distractions._

Blaine rubbed his forehead. God, the headaches hurt. The painkillers hadn't helped at all. He saw Kurt looking at him with worry in his eyes, but Blaine turned away. He didn't need pity. Blaine took the shotgun Kurt was holding out and began walking up the creaky stairs. Kurt told the two kids to stay there and recheck the files while he and Blaine checked the rest of the house before joining him on the second floor.

They didn't find anything in any of the rooms at first glance. Just lots of dust and cobwebs and a few mice. Kurt seemed jumpy after walking into a spider web.

"I just don't like spiders," he said.

Blaine decided not to tell him how many spiders he'd encounter as a hunter. He winced as he felt another headache building.

"Blaine? Are you—"

"I'm fine!" Blaine snapped, then immediately felt bad at the hurt look on Kurt's face. "Shit. Look, I'm sorry, it just—"

"—Hurt's really bad, I know." Kurt finished. "Stop yelling at me. I'm just worried."

_Then stop bugging me._ "I know. I know, I'm sorry." Blaine inhaled sharply when the pain intensified. _So annoying, never leaves me alone, look at him, so pale and skinny could probably break him like a twig and then I'd be free and_ Blaine stumbled, Kurt grabbed him before he completely faceplanted. _What the fuck?_ Blaine shook his head trying to rid his mind of images of Kurt dead and bloody. He stared at the blue-green eyes, full of concern and worry. Shit, why he thinking about killing Kurt? He _loved_ Kurt. What the hell? He let Kurt guide him to the wall and he leaned gratefully on the plaster. God he must be going insane.

"I'm going to look in the attic alright?"

Blaine nods, wincing at the motion. His head felt like something was stabbing his brain over and over. He saw Kurt reach up and pull on a string, opening the attic door. He unfolded the ladder, and stepped on the first rung. Kurt was half-way up when the flashlights began flickering. Dread crept up Blaine's spine and he pushed himself away from the wall and towards Kurt, who had stopped climbing.

"What was…?"

Blaine opened his mouth to reassure Kurt when something grabbed his shoulders and yanked him back onto the ground with a yelp. He hit his head on the floor and groaned, pain blossoming behind his ever present headache.

"BLAINE!" Kurt shouted. Blaine looked up just in time to see Kurt's terrified face just before the ladder zipped itself back up and closed the door, Kurt still on it.

"KURT!" Blaine roared, jumping to his feet. He pulled on the flimsy cord, but the door remained closed. He heard Kurt pounding on the other side and crying out. _Shit._ "Kurt, I'm coming, hold on!" Blaine pulled the cord again, but the damn thing snapped. Blaine stared at the broken string and looked back up at the smooth white door. He realized Kurt had fallen silent and fought back panic. "Kurt? Kurt, answer me!"

Silence. Blaine cursed and turned to look for a ladder but was met with four young boys. All had the same blue uniform on and were bleeding from various cuts on their body. The youngest locked eyes with Blaine and put a finger to his lips. Blaine nodded slightly, swallowing the scream that almost burst out at the sight of the boys. The boy slowly pointed at a room. Blaine recognized it as the master bedroom. Blaine glanced at the group quizzically, but all four inclined their head.

Blaine had no idea what they were trying to tell him, but he had a feeling it could help Kurt. He carefully pushed open the bedroom door and walked in. The room had a king-sized bed with a tattered canopy, a vanity with a shattered mirror and a beaten dresser. Faded paintings hung on the peeling wallpaper and the window showed a view of the courtyard. The moon shone into the room, casting everything in a bluish tint.

A tiny Japanese boy appeared in front of Blaine, but he remained calm. God, there were so many ghosts here. A sharp pain suddenly ripped through his head and Blaine whimpered, but the little boy slipped a cold hand in his and the pain faded. _The hell?_

The boy stood next the bed and stared at Blaine intently. Blaine cocked his head, confused. The kid was trying to tell him something, but…

With another significant look, the boy flickered out of existence, leaving Blaine staring at an empty space. Blaine noticed something he and Kurt had missed earlier and dropped to his knees. Next to the bed, some of the floorboards were a different color. Blaine felt around the edges of the board until…there. He wiggled one of the boards, loosening the dust caked in the grooves. He finally got one free and lifted it, setting the board to the side. He removed two more, leaving a decently-sized hole in the floor. Blaine shined the flashlight inside. There was a bloodstained knife, which Blaine avoided and a leather-bound book. Taking it out and opening it, he realized it was a journal.

All thoughts of Kurt gone, Blaine began reading.

* * *

><p>"I'm bored." Jacob announced.<p>

"Shut up," Lauren said. She flipped through another page of the huge file Kurt had left them. She was worried about Kurt being alone with Blaine. Something was off with the curly-haired hobbit. But Kurt didn't seem too worried, though he was in love with the guy. Lauren squinted at the fine print on the page before giving up and shutting the whole thing.

"This is boringgggggggggggg." Jacob moaned, drawing out the last syllable. Lauren just rolled her eyes.

She couldn't remember why she did the website with that creep. Oh wait. Yeah, she did. She wanted to be famous. Lauren glared at the gloom where Kurt and Blaine had left about fifteen minutes ago. She shined her flashlight on Jacob, who winced at the bright light.

The flashlight began to flicker and Jacob shot up and clutched her arm within seconds. Lauren muttered a curse and smacked the flashlight, but to no avail. Jacob suddenly whimpered and Lauren looked up.

Eleanor was back. She stood outside the salt circle, still crying. Her neck bled profusely.

"Stay inside the circle," Lauren hissed to Jacob, who looked ready to bolt. Oddly enough, Lauren felt calm. Eleanor didn't seem malicious. Before, she seemed to be warning them away, not trying to kill them. "Do you know what's going on?" Lauren asked. Might as well try, right?

Jacob jumped when Eleanor nodded jerkily.

"S-she can hear us!"

"No shit, Israel, she's a person, not a dog." Lauren scoffed. "Anyway, sweetie, wanna tell us what's up in this freak show?"

Eleanor lifted a pale arm, one finger outstretched. She traced letters in the air.

"H…u…" Lauren read. "s…b…husband?"

Eleanor nodded. She began tracing another word when there were shouts and a bang from upstairs. Eleanor gasped and wrote quickly in the air.

"M…mad? Murderer?" Lauren tried to make sense of her flying finger. "Your husband went mad and tried to kill you? Me? Your husband is trying to kill me?" Eleanor nodded frantically but kept writing. "H…e…help…help you? 'Help us'? Who's 'us,' the other ghosts? Don't get snippy with me woman!" Lauren met Eleanor's glare with one of her own. Eleanor tugged at her hair and bit her lip. Her face changed to terrified and she beckoned for them to follow her.

Jacob tugged on her sweatshirt. "Blaine said not to leave the circle!"

"I know what Blaine said!" Lauren snapped. She looked at Eleanor with suspicion. The woman stamped her foot in frustration and pointed at the stairs. She jabbed her finger again, wordlessly telling them to _get up there now!_

Lauren heard Blaine yelling for Kurt once more before stopping. Hummel was in trouble. That changed things.

For some reason, Lauren liked Kurt. He seemed like a cool dude. And she wanted him to have sex with Blaine. Why? She didn't know. But she definitely wanted Kurt to live and she had a feeling that if she told Blaine what Eleanor communicated to them, it would help him save Kurt. With a deep breath, Lauren stepped out of the salt circle.

Jacob was not a fan. "No, no, no come back! Don't leave me!" He whimpered.

"Come on, we gotta find Anderson and help him save Hummel!" Lauren grabbed Jacob and threw him over her shoulder. Wrestling in high school came in handy. When she turned around, Eleanor was gone, but Lauren wasn't worried. She made her way up the stairs.

Blaine shut the journal just as Lauren burst into the room with a crying Jacob over her shoulder.

"It's the first dude," She said quickly. "Laurent. He's psycho."

"I know," Blaine said. He stood up and tucked the book under his arm. Lauren seemed a bit put out by his casual response.

"You…you know?"

Blaine pushed past her and walked down the hallway. "Yep. Read his diary." He motioned for Lauren to stand underneath the attic door where a short rope still hung. Lauren put down Jacob, confused at Blaine's actions. He put his hands on her shoulder and lifted a foot, waiting. After a second, Lauren realized what he wanted and laced her fingers together. "Jonathan moved here from New York, hoping to find some relief from his growing migraines and visual and auditory hallucinations. Soon, though, he descended into full-blown insanity and killed his family and then himself. But," Blaine hoisted himself up until he stood on Lauren's shoulders. "He wasn't done. He decided to stick around." Blaine looked down and grinned at a nervous Lauren. Jacob cowered off to the side, still filming. "See," Blaine felt around the edge of the door and pulled. Unlike before, it opened easily, the ladder unfolding with little effort. A wave of musty air hit Blaine's face and he coughed. "People go mad in this house." Blaine stepped off of Lauren and onto the ladder.

"So it's all Jonathan? Everything in this house stems from Jonathan?" Lauren held the ladder steady for Blaine.

"Yeah. And he was into the occult. He decided when he built the house that he wanted to be a part of it forever." Blaine shot Lauren a look.

Lauren wasn't stupid. She actually read, and so was aware that ghosts were tied to the mortal world by human remains. So if Jonathan was sticking around, he probably had some remains of his body hidden in the house. "So you mean…" she started to say slowly.

"Yeah. He hid a lock of hair in the attic. So I'm going to find it and burn it." Blaine said. His eyes flashed. "I'm not letting him take me," he said under his breath.

"Blaine…" Lauren was suddenly nervous. "Are you sure you know you're doing?"

"Of course." Blaine smirked. "I'm gonna save Kurt and burn Jonathan."

* * *

><p>Dark.<p>

The attic was really dark.

Kurt huddled against the wall of the attic, throat sore from yelling and hands bruised from pounding on the door. That damn door that closed on him and cut Blaine off. Kurt glared in what he thought was the general direction the door was in. He'd dropped the flashlight when the door shut and it rolled off somewhere in the darkness.

No, Kurt decided to be quiet long after Blaine stopped shouting.

There was something in here with him. The hairs on his arms stood up as Kurt drew his knees up to his chest. Fuck, but he wished Blaine was here. He had his gun, which Kurt held with the safety off. Every so often Kurt caught the sound of another person—a quick breath, a cut-off giggle, a sigh. But with no light, he couldn't exactly shoot. And without knowing exactly what was in there with him, Kurt didn't want to fire the gun in case he hit something that would deflect the bullet.

Simply put, Kurt was alone, in the dark, and terrified.

Then the whispers began.

_You're pathetic._

Kurt jumped, looking around and seeing only pitch black.

_Blaine doesn't give a shit about you._

_ Not true!_ Kurt thought, squeezing his eyes shut. Blaine cared about him. Maybe it wasn't love, but Blaine cared. He had to.

_He sees you as a child. Something that needs to be protected from itself. He's going to leave you when he finds out how crazy you really are._

Kurt whimpered. "I'm not crazy!" he whispered.

_Yes you are._ Kurt felt dank breath at his ear and the voice giggled. _You're as mad as I am._

"I'm not!" Kurt swung his arm out and hissed when he only hit the wall. "I'm not mad!" Kurt held his arm to his chest. He really needed Blaine. "Blaine, please come back," Kurt whispered, hating himself for sounded so weak.

The voice kept talking and poking at Kurt's insecurities for so long that Kurt eventually stopped fighting with it. He almost didn't notice when the attic door opened.

Kurt looked at the gun, noticing the smooth metal. He turned it so that he was looking down the barrel.

It would be so easy.

_So_ easy.

To stop the voices. The dreams. Sebastian. Blaine. His father. Jesse. Murdoch.

A tear slid down his cheek.

"Kurt?"

Kurt blinked. "Blaine?" His voice was quiet. Blaine couldn't be here. Kurt was trapped in the attic, alone because the door wouldn't open. He blinked again, staring at the gun.

The gun.

Because he could see.

He looked up at concerned hazel eyes and curly dark hair. Wordlessly, Kurt gaped at Blaine. The gun was tugged out of his hand but he allowed it, because in the next second he launched himself at Blaine. Kurt almost cried at feeling those strong arms wrap around him.

"I thought you were dead," Kurt whispered.

A chuckled rippled through Blaine. "Nope. Just had to figure something out."

"Yo, Anderson! You got your boy toy yet?" Lauren called from the attic door.

"Shut up, Lauren!" Blaine laughed. He pulled Kurt up and pushed him towards Lauren, but Kurt stopped. He could hear…

"Blaine! Move!" Kurt shoved him to the side just before a tall man swung a knife where Blaine used to be. The man winked out of existence.

* * *

><p>Blaine scrambled to his feet, pulling Kurt up with him. His eyes darted around the room constantly, cursing the darkness. His elbow throbbed where he'd hit it falling down. He cried out and clutched his head when a stabbing pain ripped through his brain.<p>

_Feel that pain?_

Why yes, Blaine did feel that pain. He heard Kurt shouting through the pain-filled fog, but could barely make out his words. Oh fuck, this hurt so much. Blaine whimpered.

_This is his fault._

This wasn't Kurt's fault. It was…what was his name? "Jonathan," Blaine muttered, a new pulse of pain running through his head.

Kurt was yelling again, holding Blaine's hand and guiding him to the floor. What was he saying? Lauren. He was telling Lauren to find something, but what?

_That little bitch. That fairy. Coming in here and taking control like it's his goddamn right._

The voice was in Blaine's head and Blaine hit himself. He just wanted it _out_, because he didn't think those things about Kurt. Kurt was just worried. He cared about Blaine…

The voice laughed, and Blaine thought he heard shots and more cries, one sounding like Jacob. _Kurt cares so much. That's why he lied to you for weeks_

No, Kurt was just scared, it's understandable…

_He let you suffer._

Blaine wasn't suffering!

_ If he had only listened to you all the time, you'd be alright and sane. But Kurt came along and is infecting you with his crazy. This pain is from him._

He gasped. The pain spread from his head to his whole body, everything feeling sore and throbbing and Blaine thought he was going to black out for a second. Something hard pressed itself into Blaine's hand.

_Are you ready to stand up for yourself and make the pain stop?_

"Yes!" Blaine was standing on his feet. When did that happen? He didn't remember getting up.

_Raise your hand_.

Blaine's arm lifted before Blaine was aware of it. It felt heavy. Why was it heavy? No. Kurt stood in front of him, hands held up in surrender and eyes wide and scared. He was saying something. Blaine frowned. Why couldn't he hear him? Oh God, his _head_. Blaine screwed up his eyes and rubbed them with his free hand. The pain hurt so so bad…

_Kill him_.

What? No, Blaine didn't want to kill Kurt. Blaine loved Kurt; he didn't want to shoot him! Blaine realized his finger was squeezing the trigger. _Oh God, no_…

The gun went off with a sharp bang, and Blaine saw Kurt jump, but then Kurt was tackling him and kicking the gun away. Blaine realized he actually shot the floor, thank God, but his body was struggling with Kurt and _shit_ he just punched Kurt in the face and oh Kurt was bleeding. He tried to apologize but his mouth wouldn't make the right shapes or sounds. Kurt was stronger than he looked, actually and Blaine found himself pinned to the floor, Kurt's full weight on top of his chest.

His limbs weren't responding. Why couldn't he move? Why couldn't he _talk?_ No wait, Blaine was talking, but his mouth was spewing out horrible things and no, this wasn't Blaine,_ it's not me don't listen to a thing I say it's not me!_

Through the fog of pain, Blaine saw Lauren waving something triumphantly, Jacob next to her holding a lighter. He felt Kurt's chest shift as he shouted something. Lauren took the lighter from Jacob and suddenly Blaine was absolutely mortally terrified but he had no idea why.

The woman produced a flame and Blaine's body immediately began jerking and struggling even harder than before but Kurt kept him restrained and then the pain got a hell of a lot worse.

Fire spread over every inch of his body and Blaine was dimly aware of himself screaming, but then everything went white and he slipped away into a blissful abyss.

* * *

><p>Blaine woke up and promptly leaned to his side and puked.<p>

A cool hand felt his forehead while another rubbed soothing circles into his back as Blaine dry heaved a few times into the bucket someone had thrust into his face.

When his stomach stopped trying to force itself up through his throat, Blaine collapsed back on the scratchy fabric and opened his eyes. Kurt smiled back at him and handed him a wet washcloth.

"You feeling better?" Kurt said, sitting on the floor next to Blaine's head. Blaine wiped his face with the cloth, sighing at the cool dampness. He turned to look at Kurt and gasped.

"Holy _shit_, what happened?" Blaine gaped at the discolored bruise that marred Kurt's face. Kurt touched it faintly, but didn't look worried.

"Well, let's just say you've got one hell of a right hook." He smirked.

Blaine frowned. "What? Wait, I did that?" Wouldn't he remember punching the hell out of his best friend? Oh, his head…

He gratefully accepted the pills and glass of water Kurt suddenly put in his hands. Without thinking, he tossed back the two pills with a swig of water. He sighed deeply. "Kurt what happened? The house is really fuzzy…" Blaine closed his eyes, trying to remember last night. "Where are those hack-jobs? Lauren and Jacob? And where are we?" He opened his eyes.

Kurt sighed. "So many questions. Well. You were possessed. Jonathan Laurent went a little crazy right before he died, and it carried over when he left his hair in the attic." Kurt shook his head. "If that wasn't a tip off to his insanity, I have no idea what would have been. Anyway, he's been driving residents of the house mad for decades. Obviously. And this time I guess he chose you to have fun with."

Blaine frowned at the images suddenly flying around his brain. "I…I shot you."

Kurt shook his head. "No. I mean, you tried. Well, Jonathan tried. I assumed he was possessing you in the attic. But you made him miss, so thanks for that." Kurt winked. "Lauren and Jacob found the hair while I kept you busy and she got it to burn. Then you passed out."

"How long?"

"About a day. Jonathan was pretty powerful."

Blaine fell silent, thinking. He looked around the room, seeing the comic books and huge TV. "We're at Sam's?"

Kurt nodded. "Yeah. I kind of panicked when you didn't wake up so I drove us back here. Also, just so you know…" He shifted uncomfortably. "I kind of had to—"

A microphone was suddenly thrust under Blaine's nose. "So, Mr. Anderson, what was it like to be possessed by a psycho?"

No. Blaine glared at Kurt, who looked apologetic. "Seriously, Kurt?" He shoved Jacob's microphone away, and the kid stumbled backwards, though he kept filming.

At that moment, Lauren walked in, popping Raisinets into her mouth. "Yo Anderson, 'bout time you joined the living." She smirked. "You gonna make out with Hummel already?"

"I couldn't just leave them…and they saved your life." Kurt leaned in closer and Blaine ignored how his heart fluttered, instead sticking his tongue out at Lauren. Juvenile, yes, but oh so therapeutic. "Sam's been ready to kill them ever since Lauren said he looked like a blonde Beiber." He whispered in Blaine's ear.

Blaine groaned. "Awesome." He looked at the Spectral Spies. "Um. Thanks for saving my life. I really appreciate it. And um…good luck on that website…thing." He finished lamely. Lauren smiled and yanked Blaine to his feet, drawing him into a bone crushing hug.

"I like Hummel. You take of him, yeah?" Lauren said cheerfully.

"Yeah, yeah, I will, promise," Blaine managed to get out. He coughed when she released him and moved on to Kurt. Jacob held out his arms like he wanted a hug too, but Blaine took one look at the arm pit sweat stains and held up a finger. "No."

Jacob pouted but held out a hand, which Blaine gratefully shook. "Thanks for saving me too," Jacob said, pushing up his glasses.

"No problem." Blaine released his hand and stepped back next to Kurt. "Just stop going in haunted houses ok? Just…I don't know; make up stories about sleeping in one or something."

Jacob looked affronted. "The Spectral Spies have a duty of truth to their viewers! We do not lie like hacks and phonies!"

"Yeah yeah, whatever, you guys do whatever you want, just get out of my house!" Sam cut in. He stood by the door, wiping his hands with an oil-stained rag and looking more frazzled than Blaine had ever seen them.

Lauren pulled Jacob away from Blaine. "Our car fixed?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, oil's changed and brake lines are replaced. Now go hunt ghosts in Antarctica or something." He pushed them out the door. Literally.

"See ya, Hummel! Anderson!"

"Bye Lauren!" Kurt waved. He laughed at the look on Blaine's face. "Oh come on, they weren't that bad." He nudged Blaine's shoulder as they watched Lauren toss Jacob into the beaten station wagon from the porch. "They were…interesting."

"They were insane," Blaine snorted. Lauren yelled at Jacob for a minute before waving at the house again and driving off. He turned to say something to Kurt but stopped. Kurt looked beautiful in the setting sun, the gold light reflected off his hair and skin so he seemed to be glowing. And he'd wanted to kill this angel?

Kurt shifted and met Blaine's eyes. He flushed—looking even more gorgeous—and touched his cheek. "Is there something on my face?" he asked.

Blaine just grinned. "Nope," he said happily.

Sam snapped them out of it. "Come on, lovebirds." Blaine opened his mouth to correct him but Sam continued. "Britt's got the spell ready."

Next to him, Kurt inhaled sharply and grabbed Blaine's hand.

"Are you ready Kurt?" Blaine asked softly.

Kurt nodded. "Yeah. No time like the present."

* * *

><p>The nightmares were gone.<p>

Supposedly.

Kurt still had to test out the spell, but Brittany seemed optimistic. Coming back from the Laurent job, Brittany had almost tackled Kurt in her excitement. The actual spell was pretty straightforward from Kurt's point of view: a weird symbol Kurt had to stand on, a bunch of pungent herbs that had to be burned, a long stream of foreign sounding words and some blood. Blaine wasn't too thrilled about that last bit, but he shut up when Kurt threatened to make him to wait in the car. Britt said the spell would block the dreams and Artie even came up with pendants that would hide them from tracking spells and other magical means of location.

In short, Britt and Artie were amazing. Leaving them and Sam was actually harder than Kurt expected. After losing everyone, having friends that knew his secrets was scary, but Kurt felt freer than he had in weeks.

In the meantime, he sorted the bag of laundry he'd gotten washed on the motel bed. Blaine was sitting on the other bed with his guitar, plucking random chords. Kurt purposely had his back turned. He did not need to see Blaine Anderson looking adorable in a plain white t-shirt, semi-tight grey sweatpants, and messy hair.

Did love always feel like this? Like it physically hurt to not be next to the person you loved all the time? It hadn't felt like this with Jesse. But all Blaine had to do was smile and Kurt's knees felt weak.

But he couldn't. Blaine didn't deserve to be with someone that was borderline insane. Not to mention the danger that followed Kurt at every turn.

Kurt laughed softly. What a change from a few weeks ago. Before the nightmares and Sebastian, Kurt never would have contemplated leaving Blaine. But now, it might be his only choice. Even if it felt like his heart was tearing itself into pieces.

He folded another shirt.

Blaine changed his playing. Kurt frowned, almost recognizing the song. He turned around to see Blaine looking back at him intently. He was breathing as if he was scared, but his face seemed happy. Then he started to sing.

"_The dawn is breaking,  
>A light shining through,<br>You're barely waking,  
>And I'm tangled up in you, yeah,"<em>

Kurt felt his breathing hitch. This could not be happening. Blaine wasn't supposed to be singing him a fucking love song like he _meant_ it. Blaine was supposed to be his stupid dapper and flirty self and Kurt was supposed to get over his stupid crush like always but that would be impossible when Blaine was looking at him like that. Kurt could tell Blaine was pouring real emotion into every word and Kurt hated and loved him for it.

"_Even the best fall down sometimes ,  
>Even the wrong words seem to rhyme,<br>Out of the doubt that fills my mind,  
>I somehow find, you and I collide,"<em>

Blaine's voice cracked a little on the last note and Kurt gave up on folding his clothes. Fuck it. He stood up and sat next to Blaine, drawing his legs up to his chest and resting his chin on his knees as he watched his best friend sing a beautiful song to him. Blaine was surprised, but didn't miss a note. He twisted on the bed so he was facing Kurt, and only broke eye contact to check his hand's position on the guitar neck.

"_I've found I'm scared to know,  
>I'm always on your mind ,"<em>

Kurt smiled faintly. Those lyrics were truer than Blaine knew. Kurt watched Blaine's fingers pluck out the notes, the way his arm muscle flexed with each strum, how his neck changed with each word. Kurt knew he was crying, big thick tears running down his face and probably ruining his complexion, but he didn't care. Blaine was singing. To him. With every lyric, Kurt knew this could end beautifully or really badly. He remembered Blaine's lecture when he first started out. Hunting was dangerous, especially for couples. Kurt couldn't imagine something happening to Blaine. And he knew he wouldn't survive it. So how could he put Blaine into even more danger?

_"Out of the doubt that fills your mind,  
>You finally find, you and I, collide,"<em>

But Kurt knew Blaine wasn't stupid. He knew the risks of getting into a relationship with one Kurt Hummel. And it was condescending of Kurt to make these kinds of decisions for him, wasn't it? Besides, Kurt knew what that felt like. Blaine had tried that with him already. And Kurt was still here. Somehow, a small thought made itself known. Maybe…maybe Blaine was worth it. Kurt stared into Blaine's eyes and he finished the song. And he only saw love.

_"You finally find, you and I, collide,"_

Blaine let the last note trail off. He set the guitar off to the side, but didn't break eye contact with Kurt. The room was silent.

"You asshole." Kurt finally said, his voice cracking. Blaine looked hurt at first until Kurt continued. "I told myself I couldn't love you." Kurt wiped at his cheeks. "It was too soon after Jesse and dad; then you didn't feel the same way; then Sebastian came along and I couldn't put you into even more danger than you were already in." Kurt shook his head wonderingly. "Now here you are singing me a sweet love song? Fuck, Blaine, what am I supposed to do now?" Kurt pressed his hands against his lips.

Blaine swallowed. "I'm not sorry, Kurt." He whispered in a choked voice. He looked ready to cry, but Blaine pulled Kurt's hands away from his mouth and held them tightly.

"I'm a bitch." Kurt suddenly said. Blaine looked at him in confusion. Kurt took a shuddery breath and continued. "I'm a neat freak, am OCD when it comes to hygiene, and I have authority issues. I also have a temper and a jealous streak and I'm way more emotional than I should be." He voice lowered. "And I'm dangerous. I'm so dangerous and I don't think anyone realizes what I'm capable of."

"We stopped the nightmares. Sebastian can't hurt you." Blaine whispered back, pressing his forehead to Kurt's.

Kurt shook his head. "Damage is already done, Blaine. That's the magic of psychological torture." He laughed humorlessly. "And Sebastian is going to be so pissed when he realizes what Britt did. I'm scared. I'm scared for her and Artie and Sam but most of all I'm scared for _you_, Blaine. Because when he finds out what you mean to me, nothing is going to stop him from using you to hurt me."

"I know." Kurt looked up. He knew Blaine knew, but it was another thing to hear it. "I know Sebastian is going to try to hurt me to hurt you, but I don't care." Blaine laughed. "I don't care! You know why?"

"Why?" Kurt whispered.

Blaine leaned in and slowly, so slowly, met Kurt's lips. Kurt gasped into Blaine's mouth, his lips moving instinctively. It was amazing and beautiful and so perfect, Kurt felt like crying because it couldn't last. Almost reluctantly, Blaine pulled away from the kiss and rested his forehead against Kurt's.

"'Cause I love you, Kurt Hummel."

Silence. Then—

"I love you too, Blaine Anderson."

* * *

><p><strong>AN-_Songs used: Fell On Black Days by Soundgarden and Collide by Howie Day_**

**So hopefully that was better than than the last one! I was feeling very inspired by American Horror Story. (Crazy show, by the way. Go watch it!) Now Kurt and Blaine finally got their heads out of their asses. =] A few things I want to say about that:**

**1. No, I'm not writing smut. Even that kiss was awkward as hell. Every time I start to think about writing smut I think about that crazy guidance councilor in _10 Things I hate About You_ and I just can't. I'm sorry!**

**2. Their relationship might seemed kind of glossed over. Again, as I'e never had a boyfriend, I really don't know what people _do_ in relationships so I'm going to do my best to make it not suck, so bear with me?**

**Anyone catch Supernatural last week? First of all, NO. I do not like that ending. Second-they mentioned the Jersey Devil! I feel so accomplished now! Haha!**

**Oh and some asked about there being some significance to Kurt being called a "pixie" rather than a "fairy." Um, no, there really isn't. I might include actual fairies in this story so I didn't want there to be any confusion, but that apparently backfired. My life, guys!**

**Anyway, again, thank you so much for reading this word vomit, I really appreciate it!**


	9. Off With Her Head

**Author's note-  
><strong>I am so sorry this took so long. I have a million excuses, all of the legitimate, but I'm sure you guys don't really care. (they included exams, writer's block and being sick for 3 weeks straight.)

Any way, this update is a lot shorter than most of the others, though it is over 10k. Please forgive me. It had to be this way, I didn't want to bog it down...

Anyway, as always, thank you reading, reviewing, favoriting, alerting, everything! It means so much to me that someone cares about this little mess other than me! I also changed the summary at the request of an anon...I suck at those. Sorry.

Fair warning-don't expect an update soon. I have a lot of classes and a lot going on with my club (I'm an officer) and I'm not sure I'll have time to write for a while. I'll do my best to NOT let let it take 2 months (I'm so so sorry).

Enjoy!

* * *

><p><em>-Amherst, Colorado-<em>

"Dude, great night! We'll see you Tuesday, right?"

"Yeah," Eric Mason closed his guitar case and slung it over his over with his bag. "As soon as I get out of my other job, I'll come over," he said, wrapping a thick scarf around his neck. Winters in Colorado sucked, and he still had a fifteen minute walk home from the bar. "Later!" He waved at his friends and stepped out in the cold.

A cold blast of air swept right through his coat and Eric shivered. "God, it's cold," he muttered. He breathed into his hands for a few seconds before setting off from _The Water Hole_, a small bar his band played at every other night. The street was dark with the moon hidden behind a layer of clouds, but Eric jammed his hands deep in his coat pockets walked purposefully anyway, his muffled footsteps echoing down the deserted street.

Amherst was a small enough town that he hardly worried about crime. Sure there were the few gas station holdups on the highway and that shooting in Dover ten miles south, but otherwise Amherst was safe.

So why were the hairs on the back of his neck standing up?

Eric paused for a second and looked around, trying to see through the shadows in the alleys. He only heard his own breathing, loud and heavy through his knit hat fitted snug over his ears.

Nothing moved, so Eric kept walking, though a great deal more uneasy than before. His steps quickened almost imperceptibly, his breath ghosting out into the cold air slightly faster.

The sudden clatter of a trashcan falling over caused Eric to jump and glance around in sudden fright. When his darting eyes caught a flash of movement in one of alleys, Eric bolted, feet pounding the pavement and guitar bouncing painfully across his back.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he chanted to himself. No way was he stopping for anything. He ran to his apartment complex and fumbled with the keys, nearly dropping them into the snow before he could force the key into the lock and twist it open. He bypassed the elevator for the stairs and ran up the five flights to his apartment. Eric didn't slow down until his was inside his warm apartment and had the door shut behind him and locked. He stared at the bolted door, waiting for something—a knock, and noise, anything.

Long minutes passed before he could finally convince his body to relax. When the feeling of terror slowly left, shame and embarrassment took its place.

"Nice going, Eric," he muttered as he set the guitar and his bag down. He flicked on the lights and sighed. "You looked like an idiot out there, scared of your own fucking shadow. Good thing Azumi didn't see you."

He slipped his jacket off and hung it on the coat rack by the door. A blast of cool air washed over him and he shuddered, turning quickly. Eric frowned. He definitely did not remember opening that window above the couch. In a few seconds, he had the glass shut and after debating for a second, locked. Before moving from his kneeling position on the couch, though, Eric looked through the window at his darkened town. The night remained still, five floors below him.

Eric rubbed at his eyes. "Jesus, Eric, relax! Nothing's going on. Get some sleep."

With a deep sigh, he stood and turned around. And promptly felt his heart plummet.

Eric opened his mouth to scream, but was beaten by the sound of an ear-splitting shriek. He clamped his hands over his ears and stumbled back. _What the fuck what the fuck_

The scream rang in his ears until his neck exploded with pain.

* * *

><p>-<em>I-25, Wyoming-<em>

"_OHHHHHH WE'RE HALFWAY THERE—" _Kurt sang at the top of his lungs, bouncing in his seat and dancing as best he could while belted to the car. He elbowed Blaine until he finally joined in. That smile was irresistible

"_Ohh! Livin' on a prayer!  
>Take my hand,<br>We'll make it I swear,  
>Ohhh! Livin' on a prayer!"<em>

They finished out the song, complete with air guitar and corny moves. Kurt collapsed against the seat, laughing, while Blaine reached out and turned the volume down before smiling at his boyfriend.

His _boyfriend._

Blaine was definitely not used to that word rolling around his head. But one look at the brown-haired, blue-eyed angel giggling next to him, cheeks flushed with exertion and happiness, and Blaine was happy.

It was an unusual feeling. Blaine wasn't accustomed to it. He reached out and grabbed one of Kurt's hands, keeping one of his firmly on the wheel. The bright smile Kurt rewarded him with convinced him. Blaine could totally get used to this.

"You ok, Blaine? You look thoughtful."

Blaine smiled. "You're in a good mood," he chose to say.

Kurt's eyes glinted happily. "Well, why shouldn't I be?" He waved his hands dramatically. "We're on the road heading for a job, the weather is beautiful, I slept _great_ last night—"

Images of tangled limbs and gasps and moans rose in Blaine's head. "Yeah, you did," Blaine smirked to himself.

"Pervert." Kurt laughed and smacked his shoulder. His expression turned serious. "I haven't had any nightmares since Britt and Artie. And I have you here. Life doesn't get much better."

Blaine tore his gaze from the road to glance over at Kurt. He nodded, giving Kurt's hand a squeeze. "I love you."

"Love you too," Kurt returned.

They looked at each other for a few seconds, basking in the sweet atmosphere. Blaine finally cleared his throat and turned back to the road. "So." He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to will his blush down. When Kurt stared at him like that, like he was the greatest thing in the world…it did things to Blaine. The honeymoon phase was really nice, Blaine decided. "Where're we headed again?"

Kurt frowned disapprovingly. "Blaine, you're driving."

"Well, yeah, but I wasn't really listening when you told me why…" Kurt had been putting on his tightest pair of jeans at the time, and Blaine thought he was pretty justified in being distracted.

"You're lucky I love you," Kurt said as he rolled his eyes. He leaned forward and dug out a thick file from the glove compartment. They'd gotten it from Mercedes, who had faxed it to them. The face of the motel desk assistant when he saw the crime scene photos and the strange drawings was absolutely priceless.

Blaine snickered at the memory. Kurt had just smiled serenely until the assistant thrust the file at them and ran into the back room.

He realized Kurt was talking and quickly focused on him.

"In Amherst, Colorado, Eric Mason was found drained of blood in his locked apartment yesterday." Kurt read out. "He was twenty-nine. Mercedes thinks it could be a vampire nest, but she's not sure. The bite marks are wrong." The photo showed a large bite on the side of the man's neck. It was much larger than a typical vampire bite and looked slightly mangled, as if the victim had struggled violently before dying.

"The blood draining is pretty typical of vampires, though," Blaine mused. "Did you talk to Tina?"

Kurt nodded. "Yeah, I called her while you were in the shower this morning. She hasn't heard of any vampires heading towards Colorado." He paused. "I believe her," Kurt admitted.

While trusting vampires wasn't Blaine's first instinct, Blaine mostly trusted Tina. She had helped to save Kurt after all. Blaine sighed.

"Alright, we'll go with vampires at the moment. Start reading through my parents' journal though; they might have mentioned something else with a penchant for human blood." Blaine glanced at Kurt just in time for his boyfriend to make a face.

"Your dad has awful handwriting. Just so you know." Kurt leaned into the back and fished out the journal, treating Blaine to a glimpse of pale stomach. God, Kurt was too pretty for his own good. "I call radio control for the next hundred miles."

Blaine grinned. Like Kurt wasn't already wrapped around his finger. He just raised an eyebrow at Kurt when he turned the volume up and settled back against the seat, opening the book and poking Blaine's leg with his foot.

"Yeah?"

Kurt didn't answer right away, letting Elton John sing a few verses. "Thanks for sticking with me."

Blaine risked taking his eyes off the road to smile at Kurt. He fell back to old means of showing affection and grabbed Kurt's hand. "I wouldn't be anywhere else."

_So goodbye yellow brick road,  
>Where the dogs of society howl,<br>You can't plant me in your penthouse,  
>I'm going back to my plow<em>

* * *

><p>Eric Mason lived on the fifth floor of the apartment complex. The building was fairly old, but clean, something Kurt was infinitely grateful for. While he had somewhat gotten used to the dirtier aspect of the job, he still preferred to not walk around borderline condemned buildings most likely filled with asbestos. He shifted from foot to foot as the old landlady fumbled with the lock to the apartment, Blaine had offered to help, but she glared at the hunter when he moved closer.<p>

"I may be old, but I'm far from helpless!" she had snapped.

Blaine had backed away, hands up in surrender and a shocked look on his face.

With a grunt, the door finally popped open, and they ducked under the crime scene tape and walked inside.

"Well, here you are, Agents." The woman shuffled inside.

Kurt had to bite back a gag at the sight. Blood covered a huge portion of the carpet, with splashes on the couch and the walls. Thankfully, the smell was minimal. The rest of the apartment was small and a typical bachelor's pad, all minimal furniture and cramped rooms. Kurt pulled the file out from inside his coat and stepped carefully to get a closer look at the stain. By unspoken agreement, Blaine would question the landlady while Kurt started to check out the apartment.

"Mrs. Byerly, I would like to ask you a few questions if that's alright." Blaine took out a notebook and flashed his friendliest smile. Kurt smiled to himself. He had no idea how Blaine could make himself seem so trustworthy with just a glance. But this landlady looked pretty suspicious already. Hopefully Blaine wouldn't fuck this up.

Sure enough, the old lady scoffed and crossed her arms. "The police already asked me questions. Go talk to them."

"Ma'am," Blaine began patiently. "My partner and I are from the FBI. We have to do our own investigation and I understand how annoying and time-consuming this is, but sometimes the more you repeat the story, the more you'll remember. Or you might remember things differently. By telling the story over and over, we can get a better understanding of what actually happened that night." He waited until Mrs. Byerly nodded to continue. "How long had you known the victim?"

Kurt surreptitiously slipped out the old EMF reader while he listened to her responses. It remained stubbornly silent as he waved it over the bloodstain and the rest of the room. So probably not a ghost.

"I told the police before; Eric was a good tenant." The landlady shrugged. "Paid his rent on time; never had any wild parties. He worked as an accountant for a law firm over on Bristol during the day. At night, he'd go to a bar and play in some band. He usually got in late."

Blaine wrote the information down. "Do you know what bar he played at?"

The woman frowned. "Some hipster place. _The Water Hole_, I think it's called." She shivered. "I found him when one of his coworkers called me. He hadn't gone in to work that morning and they were worried. He didn't answer the door when I knocked and it smelled funny so I let myself in. And there he was." She waved her arm at the bloodstain, looking faintly queasy. "I'd, um…" She looked hesitant, but Mrs. Byerly continued. "The night he died, I thought I heard a scream. Only one and it was high pitched. I thought I must have been hearing things, but…" She shivered "It's going to haunt me forever."

By the couch, Kurt paused, thinking. Something was off about the room. He couldn't figure it out. His gaze fell upon the window. The curtains were open and the glass shut tight. Kurt worried his lip between his teeth and took out a photo from the file. It was taken from the doorway, facing the window with the body lying prone in front of the couch. _Oh._

He turned to Blaine and Mrs. Byerly. "Did you open the window?"

"What?" Even Blaine looked confused.

Kurt pointed to the glass. "When you found Mr. Mason. Did you open the window before you called the police?"

She shook her head. "No, it was open when I found him. I remember thinking it was odd, you know?" Mrs. Byerly glanced between Kurt and Blaine. "Winters in Colorado are cold. It got down into the teens the night Eric passed away. No one leaves their windows open. After the police left, I shut it to save on heating this place."

Kurt nodded to himself as he walked closer. The window looked pretty ordinary and the view was gorgeous. The whole city was stretched before him. He imagined it at night: all lit up with hundreds of Christmas lights. Silly as it was, Kurt did love Christmastime.

Sighing, Kurt started to back away when he noticed it. A long strand of black hair twisted around the window lock. "Did Eric have a girlfriend?" he asked aloud as he transferred the hair into a small plastic baggie. He felt like was on CSI. If CSI investigated ghosts.

"Not that I know of," the landlady shrugged. "Look, you two are going to have to talk to his friends. I just collect his checks." She crossed her arms. "Now, are you two done yet? I have three possible renters coming in a few hours and I need to get the carpet replaced."

Knowing a dismissal when he saw one, Kurt caught Blaine's eye and nodded. "Thank you for your help, Mrs. Byerly."

"If you think of anything else that might be important, please give us a call." Blaine handed her a business card and shook her hand. "Thanks for your time."

As she let the FBI agents out of the apartment, the old landlady wondered if the bright scarf the tall one wore was standard issue.

* * *

><p>"I hate research." Kurt glared at the pile of newspapers in front of him and slouched back in his chair. Blaine sat across from him with his nose buried in a book. Kurt huffed when Blaine only "hmm"-ed in response. "Seriously, Blaine, I'm dying. This is boring as hell, and fucking useless!" His voice rose a little too loud for the small library.<p>

"Shh!" A severe-looking woman behind the checkout desk shot Kurt a death glare.

Kurt smiled apologetically. "Sorry," he whispered, before turning back to a snickering Blaine. "Bitch," Kurt muttered under his breath.

A foot nudged his leg under the table. "Don't be so grumpy," Blaine said. "Research isn't useless. It's important to know what we're up against because—"

"'—Knowing is half the battle.'" Kurt finished with him. He cracked a smiled at Blaine's annoyance. "I know, you always say that. But it doesn't change the fact that reading about Little Mary Chandler running away with outlaw Bob "One-Eye" Bandit is mind-numbingly boring." Kurt tossed the paper down with a sigh. "I'm telling you Blaine, I think we can rule out ghosts. That building is only twenty years old and no one has died there. Ever. And vampires are a stretch because the bite is the wrong shape. The EMF reader didn't go off. The door was locked. All we have is hair." This was the part of the job Kurt hated. The part when they had no idea what the fuck was happening. It sucked, because the only way they'd get more clues would be if someone else died.

And Kurt hated people dying on his watch.

Blaine did too. He just showed it less.

Instead of reading, Kurt decided to study Blaine. He was much more interesting. The thick-framed glasses, the tiny scrunching around his eyes when he thought too hard, his curly hair. The way his t-shirt hugged his biceps. Blaine caught Kurt's eye and blushed.

"Stop watching me and read!"

With a loud groan, Kurt dragged a paper over to him. "You're no fun." Kurt muttered. "What time are we going to the bar?" he asked.

Blaine checked his watch. "Um, it's six now, but we can wait a little bit if you want."

Kurt leaped to his feet. "Hell no. I need a drink after all this." He barely let Blaine close the book before pushing the man out the door. "Come on, Belle , you can read later."

"'Belle'?"

Kurt kissed his cheek. "My little bookworm." Kurt teased

* * *

><p>The instant they walked into the bar, Blaine wanted to leave.<p>

"Zeppelin, Kurt! They're trying to cover _Zeppelin_!" Blaine moaned into Kurt's ear. "I want to cry. I just want to cry." He shot a dirty look at the band on the dirty stage where a skinny, ragged man with a long blonde ponytail crooned _All My Love._ Badly.

Kurt wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, he's pretty terrible. But come on, a few drinks and you won't even remember."

The guitar player hit a wrong note and Blaine winced. "It's gonna take more than a few drinks," he muttered under his breath as he followed Kurt to the bar, already taking out his ID.

_The Water Hole _was indeed a hipster bar, if such things could exist. The air felt heavy with the scent of burning weed and alcohol and Blaine saw more thick framed glasses and beanies in one place than ever before. The crowd was young, all around Blaine's age, and they stood talking quietly to each other or swaying to the music.

Which honestly could barely be called music. As the guitarist missed yet another dozen notes and seemed to be completely out of time with the drummer, Blaine fought back the urge to wrestle the instrument away and play the damn song himself. But Kurt would probably be pissed. Actually, Blaine wasn't entirely certain if Kurt would be more pissed about Blaine creasing his suit or punching the guy out.

He shook his head as they stood at the bar. Blaine flagged down one of the bartenders, a small, pretty Asian girl with long black hair pulled back into a braid and a green knitted scarf around her neck.

"Can I help you?"

Strangely enough, she kept her eyes trained on the countertop and her voice came out soft and hesitant. _Aren't bartenders supposed to be friendly and stuff?_ Blaine shrugged. Maybe it was her first day or something.

"Uh yeah, can me and him have a beer? Whatever you have on tap." Blaine said. He flashed her his friendliest grin.

"Of course," the girl whispered, barely audible, though with a slight accent. As she walked away, she still didn't look up. Blaine raised his eye brow at Kurt.

"Someone's nervous," Kurt commented before leaning back against the bar. "I have no idea how she's wearing that scarf, though, it's really hot in here," He fanned himself dramatically. "Although that can only be said for the temperature." Blaine could see him judging the girl next to him. She had a long brown skirt and some kind of ugly furry vest on, topped with a straw hat. "There's a reason most of this went out of fashion," he muttered to Blaine.

Blaine stifled a laugh. The singer said something about losing of their own this week and how they all needed to pull together, but Blaine tuned him out. They'd be talking to him later. Instead, he focused on the girl, who was getting their drinks. Or trying to, at least.

The other bartender, taller man with a pretentious goatee and a permanent smirk was crowded close to the girl, whispering something in her ear. Blaine narrowed his eyes when he saw how nervous she became as he got closer. She finished the drinks and shook her head, dodging his arm when she turned back to Blaine. When the man lightly smacked her ass, the girl jumped with a muffled shriek but managed to hold on to the drinks with minimal spillage. He felt Kurt touch his arm. Kurt had seen the whole exchange too. The girl put their drinks in front of them, her hands shaking slightly.

"Here you go," she whispered timidly.

Blaine took his. "Is he giving you any trouble?" he asked lightly.

The girl glanced at the other end of the bar where the man was chatting with a couple. Her eyes suddenly flashed and Blaine though he saw something akin to hate and rage but in the next second they had turned watery and sad. It must have been the light.

"No. Nathan makes it a habit to hit on me once a night," she finally said. "So does Eddie." She glanced at the band and fell silent. Blaine looked over his shoulder just in time to see the sleazy guitar player wink at the girl. He turned back in disgust.

_Pigs._

"What's your name?" Kurt sipped his drink, never taking an eye off of the girl.

She shifted under his unwavering gaze. "Um. A-Azumi. Azumi Tanako"

"That's pretty," Blaine smiled. Anything to put her at ease before he got around to their real reason for being here. "I'm Agent Kirke; this is Agent Ralphs." Blaine held up an FBI badge.

Her face became smooth. "You want to know about Eric, right?" she said with a resigned air.

"Right." Kurt said kindly. "Can you tell us about the night he died?"

Azumi shook her head. "I wasn't working that night. Nathan was, though." She hesitated. "Do the police have any leads?"

"No," Blaine said. "We're still looking in to it. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?" She still looked apprehensive, but nodded. Perfect. If they were lucky, they'd have some idea of what they were dealing with before the night ended.

Kurt pulled out a notepad and smiled reassuringly.

* * *

><p>When their set was finally over, Eddie Brand sighed deeply and began unplugging his guitar. It was almost three in the morning, and the only patrons left were the creepy old man at the bar and a passed out college kid on one of the pool tables. Azumi had left early, soon after those FBI guys.<p>

They were a little unsettling, actually. Eddie still didn't know exactly how his friend had died—massive blood loss due to neck trauma, the police had said. It hadn't sounded like an accident. But the questions these guys asked were just bizarre. No one hated Ethan. Everything was normal. Nothing weird had happened in the past few days.

Bill Harad had gotten a bit quiet at that question, but Ethan figured that was because he and Ethan had been pretty close.

Eddie shrugged off the sudden chill that crept up his back. Yeah, Ethan was dead. But what better way to celebrate his bandmate's life than by banging his crush? Pity Azumi was gone already. He was hoping to move in on that. She was such a pretty little thing and so skittish. It was adorable. Eddie caught a glare from Nathan and waved cheekily. Nathan just scoffed and went back to wiping the glasses.

"You and Nathan really gotta drop this feud you got going on." Bill slapped a hand down on Eddie's shoulder. He wound the microphone cord up as he kept talking. "She's not into either of you. Just like she wasn't into Ethan."

Eddie snorted. "Ethan was a scumbag. And Nathan's got a huge beak. Least I'm good looking."

Their drummer, Alan, laughed uproariously, waking the college student.

"Nobody asked you, Alan!"

As they finished packing, Eddie continued to sulk. His life kind of sucked at the moment. And being picked on by his friends was not his idea of fun.

He needed to sleep.

The walk back to his apartment was cold and dark, and Eddie could not shake the feeling that he was being watched. He considered calling Bill just so he'd have some human contact, but quickly dismissed that thought.

He was being stupid. It was just a walk. He'd be fine. Eddie pulled his jacket tighter.

The apartment was only slightly warmer than outside and Eddie cursed as he kicked the door shut. He glanced around before spying the culprit: an open window in the living room. Frowning, Eddie shut the window, but stared at the glass for a few moments. He was pretty sure it had been shut that morning. He couldn't afford the heating as it was.

Eddie shook his head. It was way too late for this crap. Walking over the fridge, he pried a beer bottle from the meager components and opened it, allowing his thoughts to wander to that pretty Asian bartender. God, he just wanted her under him and screaming and begging and kissing hotly up his neck—

"Oh yeah," Eddie pressed his hand over his growing bulge and moaned. Azumi's face flooded his mind and Eddie closed his eyes and whimpered in pleasure. Tomorrow. He'd really put the moves on her. Nathan wouldn't take this one, no way. He rubbed harder, sighing at the friction. It had been way too long.

Time to move this to the bedroom. Eddie opened his eyes and jolted back. Azumi's face gazed at him. Eddie stared in shock.

"Well, aren't you a naughty boy?" Azumi smirked, her eyes glinting maliciously. She sauntered up to Eddie, displaying a confidence she'd never shown before. Her hips swiveled as she grabbed his face and kissed him, deep and dirty and _hungrily_. Eddie pulled away with a gasp.

"Shit!" He tried to catch his heaving breath. "That was fucking hot." Azumi teasingly brought a finger up to her mouth and licked slowly. Eddie stared in awe before a though occurred to him. "Wait. How the fuck did you get in here anyway?"

Azumi didn't answer though, just smiled seductively and began unwinding her trademark green scarf. Eddie stood stockstill as the material uncovered more skin, silently thanking every diety known to man for Azumi Tanako about to get naked in his kitchen. She let the scarf fall to the floor.

"Are those tattoos?" Eddie squinted at the small red characters winding around her neck. "That's cool, what do they mean?"

The smile hadn't moved and her silence was beginning to creep Eddie out. Then she closed her eyes and appeared to be counting while Eddie watched her.

He blinked. Surely that hadn't just…?

Eddie's mind froze. This could not be happening. Did Nathan spike his drink or something? Azumi was in his apartment and her _head_ was lifting away from _her body_ and just hovering there and she was smirking in a way that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and oh god, her _mouth_. He gulped at the sight of all those sharp white teeth glistening with saliva as her mouth dropped open far wider than a normal human's could. Her face twisted and warped so it was a terrifying mask of what it used to be and her eyes glowed red.

Eddie screamed as the head sudden rushed forward and latched itself to his neck, the teeth tearing through the tender flesh. Blood poured down his chest and Eddie grabbed the thick, dark hair and tried to yank the thing off, but Azumi's head just growled and bit down harder. Stumbling backwards, Eddie collided with the counter and began fumbling for a weapon. His hand finally knocked into a cast iron pan and he grabbed it by the handle. Still almost blind with the pain from his neck, Eddie slammed the pan into the head, nearly crying with relief when the teeth released him and the thing fell to the floor.

His legs were weak from the blood loss, and Eddie pressed one hand to his neck, the other still brandishing the pan. Blood was pumping out of his neck with every breath and Eddie knew he needed to get help or he would die in his kitchen while staring at Azumi's disembodied head. He glanced quickly at the headless body still standing in the entryway, motionless.

His night was seriously fucked up.

The head was still on the floor, long black hair spread around it like a halo. Azumi's face was frozen mid-snarl, though the teeth had retreated. Eddie took a shaky step back, dropping the pan and taking out his phone with trembling fingers. His shirt was soaked by now and he squinted at the screen. Dark spots were appearing at the edge of his vision and suddenly, holding up the phone seemed like such an effort. It was so heavy.

It slipped through his hands and fell to the floor with a loud clatter. Eddie barely heard it. His breath was too loud in his ears and he was rapidly losing his sight. The pain in his neck dulled to a steady throbbing. Dimly, Eddie saw Azumi's head rise off the floor. It turned and smiled at him.

Just before his vision went black, Eddie saw her bloodied teeth drop back down. He couldn't muster up the energy to scream.

* * *

><p>The day dawned beautifully, and Kurt sat outside the police station with a cup of coffee and a thick scarf. It was really fucking cold. Hopefully Blaine could finish up inside quickly.<p>

He sipped carefully as he replayed the frantic call he'd gotten early that morning.

'_Agent Ralphs! You said to call if anything happened and I just got a call from the police—Eddie Brand's been found dead."_

Bill Harad had been hysterical. He calmed down once Kurt promised to check it out. They were supposed to talk to him later today.

Blaine was still inside the station looking at the body. After Kurt's last experience, he opted to wait outside. He could handle the cold; but touching a liver or intestines? Ha. Blaine could deal with that on his own.

There were benefits when you had your boyfriend wrapped around your finger. Kurt smirked to himself.

Finally, Blaine came out and once he caught sight of Kurt on the bench, joined him. He sat down with a great sigh.

"Well, it was weird." Blaine dug out a digital camera and handed it to Kurt. He waited while Kurt flipped through the photos, trying to ignore how cute that intense look of concentration was on him. Kurt was too perfect. But he was getting distracted. "As you can see, the victim had two bite wounds to the neck, the first one ripped up and the second almost on top of the first. But they're too large for vampires. And the one is more mangled than a typical vampire bite would be. But it does match the first vic's." Blaine took out a photo of the first attack victim and handed it to Kurt.

Side by side, the marks were very similar. They were about an inch wider than a human or vampire's mouth. They were torn and ripped as if the victim struggled. And all of them were in the same position on the neck. Actually…

"It looks like it was right over the jugular vein." Kurt said aloud, squinting at the picture. He was pretty sure that was where it was. That Anatomy class was actually useful. Who knew.

Blaine nodded. "Yeah, you're right. Almost perfectly aligned too. Both vics had less than a few pints of blood left in their bodies but not nearly enough was found at the crime scene." Blaine hesitated. "The um…the police think something licked up some of the blood. They're a bit spooked."

Kurt shuddered. "Don't blame them," he muttered, suddenly not very thirsty.

Blaine sighed again and took the camera back. "That's not all." He pulled out a small plastic baggie and dropped it in Kurt's hand.

Blinking, Kurt lifted it up. "Is that…?"

"Yep." Blaine tapped the bag. "I found it in Eddie's neck. It's not a vampire's. Way too long and thick." The sharp tooth sat innocently at the bottom of the baggie as Kurt inspected it.

"Well, now we know it's a creature. Not a ghost." Kurt handed it back. Now they just needed to figure out what kind of creature it was. But at least they could avoid hunting the library for old newspapers again. That much dust could not be good for his skin, Kurt was positive.

"Thank God for small favors." Blaine dropped his head on Kurt's shoulder and yawned. "So tired. Let's just sleep forever."

"You're the one that kept us up all night." Kurt hid his smile by taking a sip of coffee.

Blaine hummed in agreement and wrapped an arm around Kurt's waist. "So worth it," he mumbled into Kurt's neck.

Kurt dropped a quick kiss to the top of Blaine's head. When he looked up, a passing police officer shot them a disgusted look. Kurt fought down the quick spike of anger and settled for a fierce glare.

The amount of intolerance in the United States was seriously starting to piss him off.

But at least Blaine hadn't seen. With all the neglect from his parents, Blaine didn't need a random stranger's hate as well.

Kurt elbowed Blaine gently. "Come on, let's get the interviewing done. It's cold out here."

Blaine pouted but stood up. He pulled Kurt to his feet. "Let's just hope this case is nice and straightforward."

"Famous last words, Blaine."

* * *

><p>Bill Harad was jumpy from the second he saw Kurt and Blaine. He keep shifting from foot to foot and rubbing his light stubble. Dark circles shone under his red-rimmed eyes and he clutched the cold beer bottle like a lifeline. Kurt sat on the other side of the table next to Blaine, exchanging glances. He was a completely different man than the slightly sad yet content vocalist they'd talked to just yesterday. Kurt watched the man constantly glance around, as if nervous something was going to pop out and eat him. Although with what happened to his buddies, Kurt really couldn't blame him.<p>

He decided to cut to the chase.

"Mr. Harad?"

The singer started violently before rubbing his face with a groan. "I'm sorry, Agents, it's just…it's just been really hard you know?" Kurt was caught off-guard by the sudden tears in Bill's eyes, but Blaine had a better handle on the situation.

He laid a comforting hand on Bill's shoulder. "I know; it's tough to lose a buddy. Especially two so close together." Bill nodded and wiped his nose with his sleeve. Kurt quickly masked his revulsion. Honestly, people had invented handkerchiefs for a _reason_.

Kurt kept an eye on the bar. He certainly wasn't missing the fleeting touches and whispers into Azumi's ears that Nathan kept up the whole time. Some men were such pigs. He scowled at his drink, briefly considering saying something. But Blaine seemed to be getting somewhere with Bill and stopping a murderous monster was a little more pressing than putting the fear of God into a scrawny bartender. There'd be time enough for that after this shit was over.

Blaine slowly managed to get Bill to calm down to the point that the band member began talking about anything and everything. Privately, Kurt thought the continuous shots of whiskey Blaine kept ordering helped. Bill started rattling off the bands innermost secrets. And for being young, they had a ton of secrets. Like how Ethan, Eddie and even that creepy bartender Nathan all had a thing for Azumi and none were subtle about it.

Then Bill mentioned one secret in particular.

"'Member—'member how you as'ed 'bout weird shit happening?" Bill slurred, well on his way to being drunk.

"Yeah." Blaine slurred slightly too. He'd explained it to Kurt once: if someone thinks you're drunk too, they'll be more likely to give truthful answers. At the time, Kurt had asked why Blaine didn't join the FBI and get paid for doing the same job that actual agents do. Blaine had rolled his eyes and muttered something about "bureaucracy bullshit."

Kurt took a deep draught of his own shot of whiskey. He didn't swallow, though Bill was too far gone to notice if Kurt was drinking or not.

This did help improve his acting skills, however.

"What kinda weird shit?" Kurt asked.

Bill finished his drink and stared into the ice cubes, swirling them around gently. "'Fore—before Eric died, he tol' me somethin'." His eyes grew shiny with tears. "I din believe him—sounded too damn freaky, you know?" Bill leaned over the table and motioned for them to move closer. He lowered his voice. "Eric was seein' a floating head before he died."

Kurt blinked. A floating head? It didn't sound like anything he knew. But Blaine stiffened next to him.

"What did it look like?" Blaine looked at Bill with a frown.

"Eric said it was scary. Long black hair that moved on its own and huge sharp teeth and red eyes. Said it didn't look human either. Like a demon or some shit." Bill's face paled. Kurt wondered if he ought to get a bin or something because that color could not be healthy.

But Bill sudden looked at Kurt with a tortured face. "I should done somethin'. He was my friend and I ignored it. What if that thing got 'im? An' Ethan? What if I'm next?" he finished in a hoarse whisper. Truthfully, that was Kurt's worry too. But judging by Blaine's face, he knew what was going on. Kurt reached out and patted Bill's arm.

"Everything's going to be fine."

* * *

><p>How could Blaine be so stupid? He cursed himself as he dragged Kurt back to the motel room. This one had a yellow and green color scheme and Kurt had almost refused to step foot in that "vomit-covered cesspool" but kisses tended to be persuasive.<p>

He left Kurt on the bed and began rooting around their book bag for that red-covered anthology on monsters. Bill's description was familiar. He'd read about it before. Where the hell was that book?

"Blaine, honey? Mind telling me what's going on?" Kurt asked from the bed. He had his arms crossed and raised an eyebrow expectantly.

"The monster. I know what it is." Blaine said shortly, still distracted. He took out a blue book, a tiny black one, and a green one with the cover held together by tape before he saw it. "Got it!" Blaine crowed.

The book was old and worn from the countless hours Blaine had read it. He took it carefully over to Kurt, sitting next to his boyfriend and opening the cover. He began flipping through it. Kurt had his chin over Blaine's shoulder and was waiting patiently for once.

"When I was little and I couldn't go on hunting trips, Dad would leave me here with all those books. So I read them. A lot." Blaine explained. Kurt nodded in understanding, and Blaine continued. "What Bill was describing was…" He found the right page. "A nukekubi."

Kurt studied the page. The top half was covered with a drawing of a floating head with a demonic face that was snarling at a terrified person that cowered on the ground. A headless human body stood at the edge of the picture. The bottom had a description that Blaine summarized.

"Nukekubi are demons from Japan. They need blood to live and enjoy terror. Some will shriek when they attack. They're rarely seen outside of Asia, so I don't know why there's one here. Anyway, these demons can detach their heads, and the heads are invincible. It's their bodies that are the weak point. " Blaine pointed at the picture. "See, the Nukekubi can only be apart from the body when the sun is down. If sunrise comes and they aren't together, it'll die."

Kurt nodded slowly. "And I assume that they hide their body before going out to prey?"

Blaine grinned. "Very good, my little hunter." He laughed when Kurt shoved his shoulder lightly. "But yes. We need to figure out who the Nukekubi is. They can pass as human, so it could be anyone, but—"

But Kurt was already miles ahead of him. "—But, two victims so close to each other imply that the Nukekubi knew them."

"Exactly."

Something on the page jumped out at Kurt. "Nukekubi have a line of red kanji that go around their neck?" he asked.

Blaine glanced at the book. "Yeah, guess so."

Kurt bit his lip. "So who do we know that wears scarves at inappropriate times and wouldn't mind killing the victims?"

Kurt met Blaine's eyes.

"Azumi."

* * *

><p>It was almost one, and Nathan's shift was done. Sure he could have stayed longer, maybe even cop a feel with Azumi when it was only them two in the bar, but she seemed pretty jumpy all day. Plus those looks he kept catching from her when he touched her? Nathan shivered. He was a little scared for his balls.<p>

No, the best thing to do was to give up for the night. They worked together again on Friday, and she wouldn't be able to resist his charm for long. Especially since his main completion was out of the picture.

Yeah, Eddie dying was sad, but he didn't deserve that perfect ass. That belonged to Nathan. Azumi just didn't know it yet.

Nathan smirked to himself as he bundled up for the cold. He could feel Azumi watching him, so he turned and winked at her.

"See you Friday, babe!" He called out and left, humming confidently to himself. Azumi was so his.

Azumi smiled tightly at his retreating back, eyes briefly glowing red.

Nathan locked his door and dropped his stuff next to the door. He blinked in the gloom, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkened apartment. The electricity bill was pretty high last month, so he opted to leave the lights off. Nathan was shrugging out of his coat when he heard a tapping at the window. Confused, he turned around, but the window was empty. Just a view of the building across the street from his.

A chill crept up his neck, but Nathan shook it off. He just drank too much at work and was a little freaked from the murders. Yeah, that was it.

He rubbed his eyes and shuffled to the kitchen sink, splashing some water on his face to wash away the grim from the bar.

He didn't hear the window latch opening or see the tendril of hair sneak back under the window frame.

Nathan dried his face off and sighed deeply. He was actually a little nervous to be alone. "Get a grip on yourself," he muttered to himself. He suddenly shivered. _Shit, the heater must be out again._Not something he need. Nathan turned around with a groan and promptly dropped his towel. Then screamed.

* * *

><p>The apartment door crashed open and Blaine dashed into the room, gun already drawn. Within seconds, he saw the bartender screaming his head off. And a floating head with long black hair.<p>

"GET DOWN!" Blaine roared, leveling the gun. He fired as soon as the guy dropped to the floor. The bullet hit the back of Azumi's head and it fell to the tiles with a heavy klunk. Blaine kept the gun trained on the creature as he ran to the bartender's side. He roughly dragged the stunned man to a standing position.

Once across the room and sure that Nathan wasn't hurt, Blaine eyed the head. A pool of blood had formed around it and it remained motionless. "Guess the legends were wrong," Blaine mused aloud.

"What legends? What the fuck, man? The hell is that thing? Why does it look like Azumi?" Nathan's voice edged into hysterics and Blaine rolled his eyes.

"She's a nukekubi. A Japanese demon that is after your blood." Blaine glared. "Probably because you can't keep your dick in your pants." Nathan looked offended but Blaine ignored him. He glanced back at the head.

Wait.

Where was she?

"Shit." Blaine quietly cursed, pushing Nathan behind him and trying to see in the darkened apartment. Why hadn't he turned the lights on when he came in?

Nathan gripped Blaine's arm tightly, a steady stream of curses coming out of his mouth. Blaine tensed. There wasn't much to do but wait for the attack. _Please let Kurt find the body…_

A sudden ear-splitting shriek erupted on his right and Blaine fired instinctively. Azumi dodged the bullet, but growled deeply as her face morphed into the demon form. Nathan tugged Blaine's arm before turning and fleeing into the bedroom, Blaine right on his heels.

They slammed the door behind them and Nathan locked it. "There," he breathed, grinning at Blaine. A loud thunk hit the door.

Nathan paled. The door rattled again, but this time the frame groaned and they both fell against the door to hold it shut against the barrage of hits. Between the crashes, Blaine could hear growls of anger and rage.

"What the fuck!" Nathan was nearly sobbing at this point. Blaine ignored him but took out his phone. He nearly dropped it when a particularly hard hit startled him, but he kept a grip on it long enough to dial.

_Pick up, Kurt, come on!_

"Nathan, shut up for a goddamn second!" Blaine snapped at the crying mess next to him.

"_Blaine?"_

He let out a sigh of relief at the sound of his boyfriend's voice. "Kurt? Kurt! I've got a bit of a problem here— ow!" The door shook violently and Blaine knocked his head against it. "Shit! Azumi's here, but she's pretty pissed off, any luck with the body yet?"

He could almost see Kurt biting his lip. _"No, not yet. But she's definitely the monster. Her house is creepy, Blaine. There are jars of blood in the fridge."_

"Look, just hurry ok? Find the body and burn it and call me. I don't think she's going to leave without getting a piece of Casanova over here," Blaine glared at Nathan, who just looked sheepish.

Kurt scoffed. _"I'm trying, Blaine! I'm hanging up; it's hard to hold a phone, a flashlight and a gun at the same time. Just don't die, alright?"_

Blaine laughed quietly. "I'll be fine. Love you."

"_Love you too."_

He hung up still basking in the glow of those words. Blaine doubted he'd ever get over hearing those words from Kurt's lips.

Blaine blinked. Something wasn't right.

The house was silent. Silent.

"The banging stopped," he whispered. Nathan stared at him with wide, frightened eyes. Why would the banging stop? It took Blaine all of two seconds before it hit him.

_Kurt._

* * *

><p>Azumi Tanako's townhouse was across town and deep into the ghetto, wedged between an empty lot and an abandoned office building. Kurt had to double check the address from the bar, because surely no one <em>actually<em> lived there. Then again, "no one" did. It was a monster's lair.

Inside was even more run-down than the outside. Dust coated everything and the heavy scent of mothballs and rot hung in the air.

"Gross," Kurt muttered to himself.

He'd searched the upstairs and half of the first floor by the time Blaine called. When he hung up, Kurt forced himself to calm down. He'd be completely useless if he panicked every time Blaine was in danger, but hell. It was harder now that he had actually admitted what Blaine meant to him. But Blaine was counting on him, so Kurt pushed the terror back and kept searching for Azumi's body.

About ten minutes later, his phone began buzzing again, and Kurt raised an eyebrow at the caller ID. He'd just hung up, what could Blaine possibly—

He answered quickly.

"_Oh my god, thank god! Kurt! Listen—"_

Blaine rambled on, tripping over his words until Kurt finally got the gist of it.

"Wait, so Azumi's—"

The front door suddenly crashed open with a loud bang and Kurt jumped and dropped the phone. _Shit shit shit. _He decided the gun was slightly more important so he left the phone and leveled the weapon just in time for a mass of hair and eyes and teeth to rush at him, shrieking. Kurt screamed and fired. He kept his finger on the trigger until the barrel was empty. The head lay in a mass of blood and flesh on the floor and Kurt almost gagged, but then it started _twitching_ and healing and Kurt bolted. The shrill screams rattled around his ears, making his skin erupt into goosebumps. God, that was creepy.

He ran to the kitchen and locked the door, thankful at the strange layout of the house. Kurt eyed the room for a weapon as the door started rattling. The counters were empty and the fridge only had a few glass jars full of blood, so the table would have to do. Kurt swiftly flipped it over and kicked one of the legs harshly. It snapped off fairly easily. Thank God for dry rot and aerobics classes.

The door was almost broken through, so Kurt opened the oven and then stood off to the side against the wall next to the door. He readied the bat like a baseball player and tried to calm his pounding heart. _Blaine will be here soon, I just have to hold on…_

The door burst through and the head rushed in with a scream. Kurt couldn't recognize Azumi under the twisted features. She stopped screaming and hovered, turning slightly in the air as she looked for Kurt.

Kurt didn't wait and slammed the table leg into the head, sending it hurtling into the open oven. He ran over and shut the door, ignoring the snarls and screams inside and turned the dial to 500 degrees. Somehow, the gas was still running and Kurt held the door shut while the thick stench of cooking flesh filled the room. After a few half-hearted thumps, the head fell to the oven floor.

The sound of yelling from the other room reached him. Blaine. Kurt stood shakily, eying the oven. But she remained silent, so Kurt left the kitchen. Maybe it was over.

* * *

><p>Driving across the town late at night meant that Blaine was able to bend a few speed limits. Christ, he was stupid. How could he actually tell the monster exactly where his boyfriend was? Especially when said boyfriend was alone and looking for the one thing that could kill the bitch.<p>

He'd flown out that apartment the instant he realized where Azumi had gone, leaving a confused and probably traumatized bartender. Then he'd called Kurt from the car.

That scream that came through the speakers sent Blaine's blood running cold. The phone was tossed to the side seat and Blaine tightened his hands around the steering wheel. He hoped he wasn't too late.

The Mustang skidded to a stop in front of the dilapidated house and Blaine barely remembered to lock it before he had his gun in hand and was flying up the steps before he stopped. The front door had been broken in. Blaine ignored the cold fear that settled in his stomach.

"Kurt?" he called out, hating how scared his voice sounded. "Kurt! Where are you?" He gingerly stepped over the shattered remains of the door, keeping his finger on the trigger. There were some noises coming from a room in the back and Blaine tensed up.

"Oh thank God!" A tall mass rushed at him and wound its arms around his waist. Blaine sighed in relief as he hugged Kurt back. Kurt pulled back and smacked Blaine's arm. "Jesus, Blaine! Took you long enough!"

Blaine winced and rubbed his arm. "Sorry. What happened?" Azumi wasn't anywhere to be seen. He suddenly caught a whiff of a strong stench and winced. "Ugh, and what's that smell?"

Kurt shrugged. "I trapped the head in the oven and turned it on."

Well then. Blaine stared at Kurt who frowned. "It worked! I think it's dead." Kurt said defensively.

"Where is it now?" _Please don't say alone, please don't say alone…_

Kurt pointed back in the direction he'd come from. "Back in the kitchen. In the oven. Blaine, wait! It's dead, it's—" He tried to grab Blaine's arm but Blaine dodged it and ran into the kitchen.

The oven was empty.

"Fuck!" Blaine felt like kicking something. Kurt was right behind him, but didn't say anything when he saw the open oven door. Instead, he quietly walked around Blaine shut the oven off.

They stood in the dirty kitchen. "The only place I haven't searched is the basement." Kurt watched Blaine nervously. "Blaine, I'm sorry, I didn't—"

Blaine shook his head. "Not your fault. I did the same thing, actually." He smiled weakly. "Come on, let's go find her." They picked their way across the debris-laden floor to the basement door. A rush of rancid air rushed out and Kurt coughed, face grimacing in disgust. A thin chain hung in front of them, so Blaine tugged on it experimentally. It clicked, but nothing else happened.

"No bulb, I guess," Blaine explained quietly. Kurt nodded and turned on the flashlight. He took the lead, with Blaine hovering behind. The stair creaked and groaned as the hunters inched downward.

Stepping off the stairs and onto the hard, damp ground, Blaine shivered. Kurt's breath was loud, and Blaine saw it condensing in the flashlight's thin beam. Slowly, Kurt trailed the light around the basement.

The basement was fairly open, though boxes were piles high next to the walls. Shelves lined another, with a few rusted tools remaining. Dust coated everything.

Blaine fumbled out his own flashlight. "Ok, we probably don't have a lot of time before Azumi realizes what's going on," Blaine said. Kurt nodded in agreement. "So, new plan: find her body, torch it, run like hell."

"That's not really a plan, Blaine, it's more of a 'guideline,'" Kurt glanced around.

"It's good enough!" Blaine snapped back. Kurt raised an eyebrow and looked ready to launch into an angry tirade but a low growling stop him. He paled in the weak light.

Cursing quietly under his breath, Blaine shined his flashlight around the basement quickly. A rustling sounded, but he couldn't tell where it came from. "Kurt," he said quietly.

"Yeah?" Kurt whispered.

"She knows where we are." He ignored Kurt's sharp intake of breath. "When she attacks, I'll distract her, but you have to find the body. Okay?"

He met Kurt's wide eyes.

"Kurt—"

He winced at the sudden glare Kurt shot at him. "Don't you dare die." Kurt reloaded his gun. "I can do it."

A scream echoed throughout the house, long and haunting.

"Well that's going to be in my dreams for a few weeks," Kurt remarked dryly.

"Yeah," Blaine bit his lip as he waited for Azumi to make a move. The tension was thick, and Kurt pressed closer, breathing nervously.

Blaine cried out when something slammed into his stomach, knocking him into the walls and crushing a couple boxes. Several of them shifted as he rolled on the ground and groaned. A coppery taste filled his mouth and Blaine spit out blood.

"Blaine!" Kurt yelled. A shot went off. Blaine stumbled to his feet and rubbed his aching head, taking in the scene in front of him.

Kurt stood glaring at Azumi, who was in her demon, bodiless form. She faced away from Blaine, looking at Kurt and hovering. Kurt pointed the gun at her, and blood dripped slowly from a wound in her temple.

"You." The voice was deep and furious. Kurt kept his gaze steely, but Blaine saw the slight tremor in his hand. "You shot me. And tried to cook me." Azumi laughed, deep and hateful.

"You tried to eat me. Fair's fair." Kurt shot back. He caught Blaine's eyes and shook his head slightly.

His message was clear. Seeing as Azumi was fixated on Kurt, Blaine would have to find her body. Hopefully before she either killed Kurt or himself. All in a day's work.

Blaine fell to his feet and felt around for the flashlight he'd dropped. Goddamn, it was really fucking dark. Kurt kept taunting Azumi, trying to buy Blaine some time.

"You know, I almost felt bad for you. I was going to have a word with that bartender before we left town."

"They deserved to die. Disgusting pigs." Azumi growled out.

Where the fuck was the damn body? Azumi was growling deeply now and the sound sent Blaine's nerves on end.

"Why are you even here?" Kurt snapped. "Aren't you a couple oceans away from where you're supposed to be?"

Blaine's foot kicked something and he grabbed for the plastic. "Finally," he muttered, turning the flashlight on.

Azumi attacked, but Kurt fired off another round and dodged her. "I came here for…opportunities." Large teeth gleamed in the dim light. Then Blaine saw it.

A heel.

A spikey black heel attached to a pale foot.

Behind one of the boxes he hit.

Azumi ranted at Kurt, saying something about how America was about to become a warzone, while Blaine moved the boxes out of the wave and uncovered the body. It was laid out on the floor, arms and legs straight. It still wore the bartending uniform, and Blaine fought back a gag at the sight of the smooth neck stump. Blaine dug out a small bottle of lighter fluid his dad made him carry at all times. He drizzled the liquid over the body, soaking the bartender uniform. He found a matchbook hidden deep in his pockets and tried to light it, nearly dropping the whole pack at the bloodcurdling screech from Azumi.

Blaine glanced up to see a fuming demonic head flying at him, and he redoubled his efforts to get that damn match lit. It refused to catch and Blaine kept swiping the head, muttering curses under his breath.

"Shit, shit, shit, come on!"

"BLAINE!" Blaine looked up to see Kurt tackle the head, slamming it into the floor. Azumi recovered quickly and tried to snap at Kurt, but he pinned her to the floor with his body, though she struggled mightily. Blaine could only watch the fight unfolding before his eyes. "Blaine! What the fuck are you waiting for?" Kurt screamed at him. "A fucking invitation? Torch that mother!"

Shit. Right. Blaine snapped out of it and finally got the match lit, dropping it onto the body. It went up cheerily, flames leaping high. Azumi wailed long and painfully as she fought Kurt's hold. She somehow managed to twist under Kurt's arms and bit his side through his coat, eliciting a scream.

Kurt struggled and clawed at Azumi's face. Blaine saw his face twisted in pain and he ran over. Barely thinking, he kicked the head in the face, forcing Azumi off with a surprised yelp. She rolled a few feet, but before she could launch a counterattack, Blaine grabbed one of the cardboard boxes and trapped her underneath it. He sat on it, praying the cardboard would hold her long enough. He jerked forward a few inches when she hit the side, but managed to stay upright.

A few feet away, Kurt dragged himself to his feet, swaying slightly. Blaine could see his beautiful coat was in tatters on the right side. Blood dripped down from his waist, and Kurt winced with every step. He powered through it and sat back-to-back with Blaine.

Muffled curses and violent promises came through the box, but the material held.

After a few minutes of battling with the monster, they heard a loud and pain-filled wail, then silence. The box stopped moving.

"Should we look?" Kurt whispered.

Blaine thought. Looking up, he realized he could see faint light from the basement windows. "Hey Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

"It's dawn."

"So?"

"So," Blaine laughed a little. "She didn't reunite with the body. She's dead." He stood up and motioned Kurt to move. Kurt did so, though warily. Blaine peaked under the box, then lifted the whole thing. A pile of gray ashes remained.

Kurt laughed breathlessly. "Oh my God. Finally." He winced and clutched a hand to his side. "God, this hurts. And you're paying for a new coat." The sentence was directed with a glare. A deep stab of guilt struck Blaine.

Blaine just wrapped his arms around his boyfriend and tugged him close in the growing light.

"You're clingy today."

"I'm sorry." Blaine mumbled into Kurt's shoulder. "I let you get hurt. And ruined your coat." Blaine felt sick as he felt the sticky fabric. He was supposed to protect the ones he loved, but he still managed to fuck that up as well.

Kurt was having none of it.

"Blaine, stop it. Blaine!" He held Blaine out at arms' length and looked into his eyes. "Blaine. I chose this. We've been over this before; I know what I've gotten myself into. We just have to accept the fact that we're both going to screw up sometimes and move on. I'm fine. And it's just a coat."

Blaine cracked a small smile. "Never thought I'd hear you say that about a coat."

"There's a first time for everything." Kurt let his hands fall into Blaine. "Now can we please go back to the room and warm up before we freak out about the fact that America is going to be a battleground soon?"

"So cheery," Blaine laughed. He supported Kurt through the trip upstairs to the car, trying not to feel guilty at every wimper Kurt let out.

* * *

><p>The sun was just fully over the horizon when Blaine pulled into the motel parking lot. Kurt dozed in the passenger seat and Blaine watched him sleep as he turned the engine off.<p>

Kurt looked like an angel when he slept. The past several nights were good for him. He'd been able to sleep all the way through the night without any out of the ordinary dreams and Blaine could see the difference. Kurt didn't walk around with a dead expression on his face and he was back to teasing Blaine about pretty much anything. The sex probably helped too.

Smiling softly, Blaine brushed a lock of hair back from Kurt's forehead. He leaned over and, with a light kiss to the forehead, whispered into Kurt's ear. "Time to wake up, angel."

The way Kurt smiled at the nickname made Blaine's heart flutter. He stretched, groaning softly and sending a decent amount blood rushing southward. Blaine shifted discreetly, but couldn't resist grabbing Kurt's hand and stroking it with his thumb.

"'Angel,' huh?" Kurt tried to look annoyed, but Blaine could see the amusement in his eyes.

"To be honest, I've been calling you that since we met." Kurt blushed deeply. "Come on." Blaine leaned over and pecked Kurt's lips. "Let's go inside and get you fixed up."

He was about to pull away when Kurt reached out and grabbed Blaine's curls, pulling him back for a deeper kiss. Blaine responded eagerly. Just when Blaine began to wonder if they were going to forgo the beds after all, Kurt sat back, winked, and left the car.

Blaine groaned at the empty air. He had been kneeling on his seat to get better leverage, but now had to maneuver awkwardly in the cramped space to get his door open. Kurt waiting by the motel door with a coy smile and Blaine grinned to himself. Thank God they were barely out of their teens. As Blaine slipped the key into the lock and twisted it, Kurt attached his lips to Blaine's jaw and he moaned appreciatively. Kurt giggled as Blaine got the door open they stumbled into the room, trading kisses and touches. Until Kurt pulled back with a gasp.

"What? No, come back, why'd you stop?" Blaine whined, until he saw his boyfriend eyes were focused over his shoulder, looking mortified. Blaine turned. His stomach dropped.

"Dad?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN**

**Songs- Livin's On A Prayer - Bon Jovi and Goodbye Yellow Brick Road - Elton John**

PLOT YOU GUYS!

And a cliffhanger! Ish. Hahaha thanks for reading!

Oh and if you have ideas on creatures Kurt and Blaine should face down? Hit me up!


	10. I Can Feel It In The Air

**Author's Note-**

**Here it is! A whole new chapter! 18k+ words of plot and action and talking! I deleted the old chapter and re-uploaded this one so I hope this works...FF confuses me.**

**Anyway, I did change a little from the preview but not much. I do suggest rereading it though. As always, thank you all for the alerts/favs/reviews, I means so much to me that you are all reading, I hope you enjoy this! It's definitely more plot than action.**

**Warnings for this chapter: light non-con? Nothing actually happens. Rude language.**

**EDIT- Yeah so apparently I didn't read through this as well as I thought I did...so the mysteriously silent Santana is gone. Sorry about that guys! I promise she'll come back in all her snarky glory.**

* * *

><p><em>-Amherst, Colorado-<em>**  
><strong>

"What are you doing here, Dad?" Blaine's voice came out harsh. He glared at his father.

Michael Anderson was an imposing figure. He was taller than Blaine, slightly taller than Kurt, with broad shoulders and short dark hair and hard hazel eyes. Blaine felt his body instantly straightening: head up, shoulders back, spine rigid. He never felt smaller than when he was under his father's gaze.

Kurt put a hand of his shoulder and squeezed comfortingly. Blaine was grateful. He sucked in a deep breath and tried to beat his tension back. For Christ's sake, he was twenty-two. His father should not be able to have this effect on him anymore.

Michael didn't answer right away, but his eyes flickered between his son and Kurt. "Who is this?" he asked with his commanding voice.

Blaine stiffened and grabbed Kurt's hand. "This is my boyfriend. Kurt Hummel."

They stood in the motel room, staring at each other silently. Blaine shook with the effort to _not_ give away that he was terrified.

It wasn't that Michael Anderson was a bad man. On the contrary, he did the best he could to do right by Blaine. He just didn't approve of the boys or the love of music. Blaine knew this, but it still hurt when his father always looked at him with disappointment.

"Pack your bags, Blaine. We're leaving." Michael didn't take his eyes off of Kurt, who stood proud with his best _fuck-you _face.

"What? No, I want answers!" Kurt squeezed his hand, but Blaine's mouth kept running. "You can't barge back into my life and order me around! You lost that right when you left me seven months ago with fifty dollars and a car!" Blaine realized he was shaking and tried to calm himself down. He couldn't explain what happened to him when his father was around. For some reason, the presence of the older man just put Blaine on edge.

Michael drew himself up to full height, fixing his hard, dark eyes on Blaine's. Blaine swallowed hard. His father didn't take well to being yelled at. Blaine stood his ground.

The explosion never came. "There's a war coming." Michael said.

Blaine furrowed his brows at the topic change. "Yeah. We know."

Michael just nodded. "We need to prepare. Your mother is waiting for us. Go get ready." Blaine didn't move. He needed to know if…

"He can come too." Michael flicked his eyes over to Kurt.

"Yes, sir." Blaine said, instantly. "Just do what he says for now," Blaine muttered to Kurt. "He'll explain eventually." Kurt frowned and glared at the man standing by the window, but let go of Blaine to comply. Blaine saw Kurt wince and touch his side when he bent over and he rushed over to help. Kurt just waved him away and hoisted the bag over his good side.

He glanced at his father, who just stood with his arms crossed and a distrustful look at his face. He knew his father didn't like that fact that he was gay, but Blaine always hoped that he'd at least treat his future boyfriends with respect.

And not look ready to maul him every time said boyfriend touched Blaine.

"Kurt, put it down. We have to fix your side first." Blaine gently tugged the bag off Kurt's shoulder, not particularly liking how gray Kurt's face had gotten.

"Your dad wants us to leave. I can wait." Kurt said, but his breathing had turned harsh. He met Michael's gaze evenly. "I'm fine. I can handle it."

Sometimes, Kurt was so stupid that Blaine wanted to smack him upside the head. Blaine stepped closer, ignoring his father behind him. "You don't need to prove anything to him," Blaine muttered.

"Yeah, I do," Kurt didn't drop his gaze. "I worked in a garage most of my life. People like your father make snap judgments about others and I'll be damned if he sees me as weak."

Kurt was right. Michael was never one for ignoring stereotypes. And Kurt looked gay in a way Blaine never would. With Blaine, Michael could ignore that part of him and pretend he was straight. But no matter how much dirt was caked in under Kurt's fingernails, no matter how many leather jackets and ripped jeans he wore, Kurt was _gay_. And Michael couldn't overlook it.

He shot a glare at his father. His boyfriend shouldn't have to suffer to prove a point. But then Michael surprised him.

"Blaine, start packing the car. I'll take care of him." Michael shrugged out his jacket, draping it over the bed.

What his father was playing at, Blaine couldn't figure out. He glanced at Kurt, who seemed equally shocked at the sight of this huge man unpacking a first aid kit and clean towels from one of their duffels.

When Michael saw that neither of them had moved, he chuckled dryly. "Well hurry up, Blaine, your mother is waiting a state over. And Lord knows you can't stitch in a straight line to save your life." He grinned wryly.

Blaine's father had a point. But he still didn't want to leave his boyfriend alone with his father. Embarrassing stories aside, he didn't trust his father to do something to Kurt. Not kill him per se, but hurt him. So he stalled, until Kurt shoved him off gently.

"We'll be fine. Do what he says." Kurt said quietly. "I didn't want to scare you before, but I'm kind of bleeding a lot and I'd rather get this fixed sooner than later." He pressed a quick kiss to Blaine's forehead and squeezed his hand.

Blaine bit his lip and looked at his father. "Just be careful," Blaine whispered.

Kurt smiled at him. "You're just scared he'll tell me silly stories about what an adorable little kid you were," Kurt teased, lightening the mood.

"You got me," Blaine laughed. He grabbed a few bags and walked to the door. Just before stepping out, he glanced back to see Kurt stripping his shirt off and his father waiting with antiseptic and towels.

He really hoped this wasn't a mistake.

* * *

><p>Kurt sat down on the edge of the bed, masking his pain. The wound looked ugly and still oozed rivulets of blood. <em>There go another pair of jeans,<em> he though sadly. Hunting was not conductive to fashion. Michael frowned as he inspected the bite.

"Let's move this to the bathroom," he sighed. Slightly worried, Kurt followed. He sat of the edge of the tub, chest bare and pants low on his hips. Michael perched on the toilet seat, laying the towels and bandages on the floor. "Lean over the tub," he instructed.

Wincing as the movement jarred the wound, Kurt did so by lying back, bracing himself on the wall behind him. The cool tile felt wonderful on his skin, and Kurt closed his eyes briefly. This was such a weird day.

"I'm going to rinse your bite with the antiseptic. It might sting a little." Kurt just nodded, biting back a yelp when the cold liquid splashed on the bite. Sharp pain flared up and reverberated throughout his body, but Kurt kept stubbornly silent. He needed to impress Mr. Anderson.

Michael rinsed the antiseptic off with lukewarm water from the faucet, pouring it gently over Kurt's side and letting the pink runoff fall into the tub. He patted it dry with a clean towel. Without the blood, the wound was smaller, though still deep. Teeth marks made a wide circle that stretched from Kurt's hip to just below his ribs as well as touching on his front and backside. Michael frowned as he studied Kurt's injury.

"I'm not sure if we have enough gauze," he muttered, eying the pile of bandages. "Each tooth mark is too small for stitches, but they clearly should not be exposed." Kurt just shrugged, figuring he should keep silent. He made a mental note to go over first aid with Blaine. How could he survive this life without even knowing how to dress a wound? "I'm going to have to wrap it. Alright, sit up." Michael waited for Kurt to be upright before ripping several gauze packets open.

"Dad?" Blaine stopped at the door. "The car's packed up." His eyes flickered over to Kurt for a second.

Michael nodded and held the gauze against Kurt's body. The blood immediately was soaked up, and he pressed firmly. "Hold these," he told Kurt, who did so. "Blaine," Michael said while he readied the medical wrap, "I need you to go in my car. There's a medical kit—"

"—Under the driver's seat." Blaine finished. He half smiled. "You haven't changed much.

"Clearly not," Michael muttered. He tossed Blaine the keys. Kurt held the end of the wrap and he began winding it around Kurt's body to hold the bandage in place. "Get the antibiotics out. Just in case." Blaine nodded and left, though not before shooting a loving look at Kurt.

The bandages pulled tightly and firmly around his side, though the pain had faded to a dull ache. Kurt was grateful. Michael clearly could have been a lot rougher, but he had cared for Kurt as well as he would have for Blaine. Kurt watched the older man tie off the bandage.

Michael resembled Blaine. They had the same hair and the same skin, even the same color eyes. But while Blaine's could be laughing with joy, deep with love, or wide with terror, Michael's were hollow. Filled with pain.

Kurt wondered why.

"I don't like you with my son." Michael sighed.

"Why not?" Kurt braced himself. The reasons were endless: too flamboyant, not a real hunter, not a girl…

"You're dangerous." Michael stood up and faced Kurt. He voice was flat. Just laying out the facts.

Kurt thought for a second. He was dangerous. He knew that, even more so than Blaine did. Sebastian had hinted as much. And it seemed like Michael knew more about Kurt than he was letting on.

"Do you know who I am?" Kurt asked quietly, not daring to drop his eyes. His heart thudded in his chest.

Michael crossed his arms. "You're Kurt Hummel. Every hunter knows who you are because every demon in the country is looking for you." Kurt suddenly felt cold. "The most dangerous demon out of hell at the moment is trying to find you. Sebastian. And he won't stop until he does. That demon will destroy anything to get to you. Including my son." Michael's voice broke slightly on the last sentence.

"I know," Kurt whispered. It was hard to breathe. "I know he's looking for me. I don't know why he needs me." _Lie_, his mind supplied. _You know. At least part of the reason._

"If he finds you, he will kill Blaine."

"He won't find us."

"I found you."

Kurt fell silent. He was putting Blaine into danger. He knew. But he couldn't stop.

"Blaine made his choice." Kurt took a deep breath. "He chose this. He chose me. And he knew the risks. I can't leave him. Blaine is all I have now, and I love him. I really, really love him, and I can't leave him." Kurt felt his eyes burning with unshed tears but he pushed them away. "Blaine saved me in more ways than one. He's…amazing. You should be proud of him. And I hate that I put him in danger and I hate that he could be used against me, but Blaine deserves to be respected. I can't control him. And neither can you." Kurt kept his gaze steady as he stood up. "Thanks for wrapping me up," Kurt muttered as he pushed past Michael to find his shirt.

Michael grabbed his arm. "You're going to destroy the world. And I don't want my son involved. Don't use him as a shield." Anger flared in his eyes.

"You don't know me." Kurt hissed. He ripped his arm away and left Michael kneeling in the bathroom.

He almost ran into Blaine. Without a word, Kurt snatched the antibiotics from Blaine's hand and stalked out to the car, leaving a confused Blaine in his wake.

They could pack up their own damn stuff.

* * *

><p>Blaine followed his father's car towards Missouri. Kurt was curled up in the seat next to him, staring out the window and generally not talking. Blaine silent cursed his father for not being able to keep his damn mouth shut for five seconds. Sonic Youth's <em>Teenage Riot<em> echoed from the speakers and Blaine tapped the steering wheel to the beat.

The chords calmed him, and Blaine nodded along to the song. There had to be a way to talk to his boyfriend without pissing him off even more. It wouldn't be easy, though.

"Kurt?" Kurt blinked and looked at him. Blaine sighed. Kurt was royally pissed. "Look, I'm sorry about anything my dad said," he started, but Kurt was shaking his head.

"You don't get to apologize for that asshole," Kurt glared at the car in front of them. He didn't talk for a while. Then, in a soft voice: "He accused me of using you. For protection."

Blaine almost crashed the Mustang. "He _what?_" Blaine considered ramming the Mustang into his father's car. How _dare_ he? Kurt was the best thing to ever happen to him no thanks to his _father_ who just up and _abandoned_ him without so much of a goodbye.

He took deep, even breaths, counting between them. It didn't help. Blaine still wanted to punch his father.

Kurt eyed him, obviously worried. "Blaine? Please calm down, I don't want you and your dad to get into a fight over me."

"He insulted you." Blaine clenched the steering wheel.

"He was worried about you." Kurt sighed when Blaine rolled his eyes. "I'm not saying I'm his biggest fan, but he's just trying to protect his only son. And…maybe he has a point." Kurt bit his lip and became very interested in the window view.

No. Blaine had to consciously make sure he didn't crash the car that time. "No." Blaine glared at the back of Kurt's head. "No, he doesn't have a point. We're done talking about this." He would not consider losing Kurt. Not when he just found him.

They were silent until the motel.

* * *

><p><em>-New York, New York-<em>

Rachel Berry was not having a good day.

She was in a basement with her hands tied to a pipe overhead, gagged with a dirty cloth, hadn't eaten in several hours, and was covered in dirt and grime. Plus, the warehouse was grungy and smelled like the inside of Finn's gym bag, which meant the air could not be good for her lungs and that was just tragic. As a highly famous Broadway star, Rachel needed her lungs to belt out Barbra-esque notes. A few high, broken windows let in just enough moonlight to see around the dilapidated and empty warehouse, and Rachel could swear she saw a rat hiding behind that creepy altar thing in the corner. She thought she could hear the sound of running water outside. Rachel yanked on the rope, wincing as the movement jarred her sore arms. The pipe didn't budge.

What had she gotten herself into? Rachel pulled on the rope again, but it remained tight and unyielding. She wished she could put her arms down.

She shouldn't be here. It was no place for a star. Tear welled up in Rachel's eyes. The very last thing she could remember was going to meet Jesse at his (and Kurt's) old apartment and then…nothing. Just blackness until she woke up here.

She wished she could sing, but whoever had taken her had taken care of that as well. The gag dug into her cheeks and effectively blocked any and all vocals. Well, he had to show up sometime. And then Rachel would give him a piece of her mind, maybe threaten him with her boyfriend or her fame. People had to be looking for her. Broadway stars didn't just disappear like this, right?

What if this is what happened to Kurt? Rachel went rigid at the thought of her missing friend. No one knew where Kurt had gone. After his dad died, he'd vanished. He wasn't answering his phone or emails and he hadn't logged into Facebook for months. Rachel had launched a huge campaign to find him, but it hadn't led anywhere. Kurt was gone.

There was that one report about the FBI thinking he teamed up with a murderer, but Rachel had dismissed that as a case of mistaken identity. Kurt hated blood and cared about his clothes too much to be caught dead with a gun or a knife. Although that Anderson boy was pretty hot for a criminal.

But now was not the time to be thinking about Kurt Hummel. Rachel had to be prepared to be rescued. Because surely she would be. Rachel thought about the inevitable interviews and books and potential movies based on her ordeal.

Rachel was in the middle of a fantasy about crying about her imprisonment on Oprah when heavy footsteps caught her attention. A voice was talking, sounding bored yet nervous. And familiar.

"He'll come, don't worry…yes, I know I screwed up before…we have his best friend, the boy won't leave her. He's too much of a goody-two-shoes to let her suffer in his place." The door in the fair side of the building opened and a tall, lanky man with wild brown hair came in view of the moonlight. Rachel's eyes widened and she struggled against her bond. The man chuckled.

"Careful sweetie, don't want to bruise your wrists," He winked at her and refocused on the cell phone attached to his ear. "Just give it a few days. He'll show up. Meanwhile, I'm going to have some fun." The man ran a finger up Rachel's outstretched arm and smirked.

When his eyes turned black, Rachel screamed.

* * *

><p><em>-River Falls, Utah-<em>

Kurt knew he'd have to meet Blaine's family at some point, but he hadn't thought it would come down to this. He sighed and picked at the threadbare comforter on the bed as he sat in yet another nameless motel. The Andersons yelled at each other, and Kurt figured he'd have to calm his boyfriend down soon, though privately he thought Blaine had the right to get this out of his system.

Being abandoned by his parents affected Blaine a lot more than he let on, Kurt knew. Burt may not have been always perfect, but he loved Kurt. Kurt was thankful for that.

However, the yelling was going to have to stop because Kurt did not look forward to hearing damage in the near future. He pulled his eyes away from the blanket (_and honestly, five loose threads?_) and studied the bickering family in front of him.

Michael Anderson was his normal imposing self, looming over Blaine and trying to intimidate his son into backing down. Blaine, surprisingly, held his ground and shouted right back. But the real surprise was Blaine's mother.

Clara Anderson was a small woman with fierce green eyes and wild black hair tied back in a long plait. She dressed like most hunters, with a huge knife holstered at her waist and black combat boots. Her eyes flashed with passion and rage and Kurt was on the receiving end of the worst glare he'd ever faced when she opened the door and saw him standing next to her son. Immediately, she'd launched into a mixed Filipino-English tirade, screaming at Kurt and Blaine equally until his husband attempted to intervene, then she turned her sharp tongue onto him as well.

"Blaine, he is dangerous, why can't you get that through your head!"

"Because I LOVE HIM, Mom! You don't get the right to tell me what to do! Not when you left me!"

"Blaine Michael Anderson, you will not talk to your mother that way! We did what we had to keep you safe—"

"Yeah, 'cause I've been free from danger ever since you left," Blaine scoffed. "He saved my life more times than I can remember, and he NEVER abandoned me or made me feel like shit!"

Alright, Kurt had to admit that Blaine sticking up for him was really kind of sweet. But then Clara's face turned a dangerous shade of red and Kurt figured now was as good as any to intervene. Plus the shouting was giving him a headache and the pain meds for his side were not nearly as powerful as he'd hoped.

"Alright, enough! Shut up, all of you!" Kurt barked. Shocked, the Andersons fell into silence, though Blaine still glared mutinously at his parents. It would have to do. "I think we need to talk about this calmly and rationally," Kurt said, trying to ignore the hate practically pouring off of Blaine's mother. "We all care about Blaine," a scoff from Clara made Kurt rethink his stance on hitting parental units but he refrained, "and we should be able to settle this without ripping each other's head heads off." He patted the bed next to him and motioned for everyone to sit down. They obeyed, though with some grumbling. Kurt fought the urge to hide a smile. Who knew living with Rachel Berry for two years and placating her diva tantrums would actually be beneficial.

Blaine scooted next to Kurt and squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry about this," he muttered. "I have no idea what's gotten into them. I know they don't like the fact that I'm gay, but I thought they'd treat my boyfriend with at least some respect." He glanced at his parents, who were conversing furiously with each other in hushed whispers.

"Blaine, I don't think this is completely about you being gay," Kurt eyed Clara nervously. Blaine had said his mother hadn't had nearly as much of a problem with his sexuality as his father, but right now Kurt was pretty sure she hated him more than Michael did.

The Andersons and their secrets were starting to piss Kurt off. Not to mention how fucking cryptic Michael had been back in Colorado.

Michael sighed loudly, getting their attention. "Look, Blaine," he started, rubbing his face tiredly. "We do what we have to in order to keep you safe."

"I'm an adult, Dad, you don't have the right to make decisions for me anymore." Blaine's hand was cutting off Kurt's circulation but Kurt gritted his teeth and dealt with it.

Waving his hand, Michael continued. "We know. But. Your mother and I both feel that with the world being what it is, it's not safe for you to be around him." His eyes flickered to Kurt.

Blaine stood angrily before Kurt yanked him back down. "How dare you! You better have a fucking better reason than that if you're going to convince me to leave the best thing that's ever happened to me!" Blaine seethed, ignoring Kurt's soothing rubs along his back.

"Language!" his mother interrupted, but Blaine just rolled his eyes.

"Kurt's had to deal with a lot of shit in his life, and he doesn't deserve your judgment. I'm gay, and I love him. You can't change that."

"He will get you killed!" Clara shouted, twisting away from her husband's hand. "That _thing_ will destroy the world and I will not have my son as another casualty!"

It was like all the air in the room got sucked out. Kurt dimly heard Blaine blow up next to him and shout at his mother, but the rushing in his eyes drowned everything out.

Memories flooded back. Of being in Lima, standing in line at the grocery store as the local minister continuously muttered under his breath behind him about eternal damnation and hellfire; awful phone calls at all hours whispering horrible things to thirteen-year-olds; three-letter-words painted on his locker.

Why did the whole world hate him?

"Kurt? Angel?"

Kurt blinked and Blaine's concerned face floated into view. He took a shuddery deep breath. "Yeah. I'm fine." He wrapped his arms around himself unconsciously.

"Bullshit, you're shaking like a leaf."

Kurt pushed Blaine's hands away and turned his view towards Blaine's parents. He had to find out if they knew something more about him. About Sebastian and his "plans."

"What do you know about me?" he asked. Blaine sat down and put a hand on Kurt's shoulder, looking relieved when it wasn't shrugged off.

Michael exchanged glanced with his wife before fixing Kurt with a tired look. "Look, son, I'm sure this isn't your fault. You seem like a nice kid."

"Cut to the chase and tell me why I shouldn't be with Blaine." Kurt cut in quietly. Michael seemed a bit startled by Kurt's interruption, but kept on talking.

"Clara and I were exorcising a demon several months back. A low-level one, barely worth the effort." Blaine's hand tightened on Kurt's shoulder. "He let slip something about a war coming and how we hunters were going to get ours soon. After more interrogation, we managed to piece together the demons' plans."

"Did the possessed live?" Blaine cut in harshly. His nails dug into Kurt's flesh and Kurt reached up and took his hand in his own, rubbing the knuckles.

Michael glanced at his son. "No," he said finally. "The interrogation was too much for the body to handle." He met Blaine's angry glare with a calm one, until Blaine dropped his gaze. "Anyway, we asked around, found out the demon's story had some substance. Things were going to get very bad very fast, and we knew we'd be on the frontlines. So we left you, Blaine. To spare you for a few months."

"It was for the best," Clara picked up. "The demon talked about a human that was born twenty-some years ago; one that had the power the open the gates of Hell and unleash evil onto the world like never before. The demons were looking for the child and they were ready to let it realize its true potential."

Kurt felt the walls closing in again, but he fought the panic down. "That doesn't mean me, though," he said aloud. "I'm just some kid from Ohio who was making dresses six months ago."

Clara actually looked somewhat apologetic. "We didn't know it was you either until Sebastian turned up. He's been on the warpath, tearing America apart for you. You're in every post office, both of you. They have your face being broadcast on every news station from here to DC. Most Wanted Men in America. They even have a story, thanks to you, Blaine." Blaine had the grace to flush. Oklahoma was still following them, it seemed like. "All demons have standing orders to find you and bring you to him. And to take Blaine as well." Clara's eyes watered up.

Sebastian wanted Kurt.

And Blaine. Kurt had a fairly good idea why. Nausea churned his stomach. He couldn't let Blaine be hurt like that.

"So what's your course of action?" Blaine cut in harshly.

Michael eyed his son. "Take him to New Directions and have Schue guard him."

Blaine nodded to himself. "Right. Well, we're leaving." He stood up and yanked Kurt to his feet, pushing him towards the door.

"Blaine, wait!" Kurt fought off Blaine's hold and took a step back. "Maybe they have a point—"

His words died in his throat when he saw Blaine's face. It was a heartbreaking mix of fury, betrayal, and fear. "Don't you dare, Kurt. We're in this together. I won't let them lock you away like—like some animal!" Blaine shot a look of hatred at his parents and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Kurt jumped at the sudden noise.

Michael spoke first. "Kurt, I know this isn't ideal—"

"It's not." Kurt clenched his jaw shut to stop himself from screaming at him. He wiped at his eyes, hoping he could keep it together for a few more minutes. His head ached and his side pounded and all Kurt really wanted was to curl up next to Blaine and fall asleep in his arms. But he had a few things to take care of.

Michael and Clara stood side-by-side, twin expressions of determination on their faces. _Fuck._ Hurt hoped they wouldn't hate him too much.

"I told Michael before. I won't leave Blaine." Kurt nodded slightly at Michael. "He means too much to me. But I can promise you this." Kurt took a deep breath as he made his decision. It may not be the smartest, but it felt right. "I will protect Blaine with my dying breath. I won't let anything happen to him. I'd die first."

With that, Kurt turned his back on Blaine's parents and put a hand on the doorknob. He was about to leave when Clara spoke, voice thick with tears.

"You're making a mistake. Give us back our son!"

The words cut deep. Kurt could see it from their view, could see they felt like Blaine was slipping away from them forever. And it was true. Blaine chose Kurt over his family.

"I'm sorry," Kurt whispered. He opened the door and left, leaving the Andersons behind. Blaine was leaning against his car, wiping at his eyes.

He smiled when he saw Kurt, though. Kurt loved that about him. Even when Blaine was upset, he still looked at Kurt like he was the world. Blaine barely let Kurt take two steps before wrapping him up in a tight hug.

"I thought you were going to leave me," Blaine whispered into Kurt's shoulder.

_I should have._ Kurt tried to push those thoughts away, but they refused to leave. _I don't want you to die._ He clutched Blaine tighter. "Let's just go," Kurt smiled weakly.

* * *

><p><em>-Holyoke, Pennsylvania-<em>

A bored waitress plopped a stack of pancakes in front of Blaine and a fruit salad in Kurt's general direction. "Enjoy," she drawled, wandering back over to the counter to flirt with a sleazy truck driver.

Kurt eyed his fruit suspiciously. "I used to say that it was impossible to mess up fruit salad, but I'm rethinking that stance," he said, poking a dry melon chunk.

Blaine shrugged, already stuffing his mouth with pancakes. "'Astes 'ine t' me," he said around the food. Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Remind me again why I'm dating someone with horrible manners?" Kurt schooled his face into a disapproving look, but the corners of his mouth twitched. Damn.

"'Cause I'm adorable and you love me." Blaine grinned. "Also, sex."

Kurt snorted and threw a napkin at Blaine's face. "Having syrup smeared across your mouth like a five-year-old is not sexy." He saw Blaine's eyebrows wiggle mischievously. Ok, time to head off that train of thought. "I swear to God, Blaine, if a sexual innuendo comes out of your mouth, I'm making you walk."

Blaine pouted, but kept quiet. He worked through the pancakes, though halfway through he began running his foot up the inside of Kurt's leg. Kurt glared, but Blaine just smiled innocently. Hiding a smile in his coffee, Kurt couldn't help but feel sort of happy. Meeting Blaine's parents hadn't gone well, but Blaine seemed to be recovering.

His parents must have done a number on him over the years. Kurt couldn't believe how much more free and relaxed Blaine had become over the last few days. Maybe soon, Blaine would talk to him about his past. After all this business with Sebastian and demons.

Meanwhile, though, he had a boyfriend to tease.

The way Kurt was eating his fruit was massively unfair.

As were the moans of pleasure and lip-licking. Blaine knew for a fact that the fruit was not that good, and yet his boyfriend was practically making out with a strawberry right in front of his face. Blaine groaned to himself and moodily stabbed a syrup-soaked pancake piece. Kurt should not be allowed to make those noises in public.

"You alright, Blaine?"

Blaine glanced up. _Oh, he thinks he's being all innocent with those big blue eyes and oh god he's licking his fingers. With his tongue. And his lips are all red from the strawberry. Alright, he has to be doing this on purpose because he knows what that does to me and oh god…_Blaine shifted in his seat and tried not to look at Kurt. "Check, please?" he called out, suddenly sweaty and hot in the stuffy diner. The waitress strolled to the cash register with a bored expression.

"Is this payback for the foot thing?" Blaine hissed at Kurt. "'Cause this is just cruel." Kurt wasn't paying attention to him though. He looked above Blaine's shoulder, eyes wide and scared. "Kurt?" Blaine turned around.

There was a TV behind the diner's counter, turned to the news. It was too far away to hear the reporter, but the picture was fairly obvious.

A photo of a young woman with long brown hair and brown eyes was flashed. Blaine scanned the caption. _MISSING BROADWAY STAR PROMPTS CITY-WIDE MANHUNT._

So she was missing in New York. Kurt must have seen her on Broadway. But he seemed more worried than he should be about a stranger.

"Kurt?"

Kurt dragged his eyes away from the screen. "Her name is Rachel Berry," he said, still in shock. "I…we went to school together at first. Julliard. Then I transferred to FIT, but we shared an apartment sophomore and junior year. I only moved out because of Jesse…" Kurt voice trailed off. "Oh my god, Finn must be going crazy." Kurt suddenly dug for his phone. "I-I-I got to go, be there for him, try to find her, it's only been a few days, she might be okay, where the fuck is my phone?"

Alarm bells went off in Blaine's head. It was too much of a coincidence. Hunters hated coincidences. He put a hand out on Kurt's arm. "Stop. Wait." Blaine said sternly. Kurt huffed, but thankfully obeyed. "Are you planning on going to New York?"

Kurt's eyes flashed and Blaine was reminded of why he didn't piss Kurt off any more than necessary. "Of course I'm going to New York," Kurt said, voice icy. "My best friend goes missing and you think I'm going to just sit around?" he glared before ripping his arm away from Blaine and hunting through his pockets for his phone. He must have kept his contacts when Blaine made him switch numbers.

"Kurt, stop. I don't like this." Blaine declared. "This too random. Sebastian is tearing apart the country to find you and then your best friend from before goes missing? No way. I'm not letting you leave." He crossed his arms. Tough love. Kurt would thank him one day.

Or not. Kurt leaned over the table with a very scary look in his eyes. "Blaine Anderson, you listen to me." His voice was low and dangerous. Blaine swallowed. "Rachel Berry was my best friend. If something happened to her because of me; because it's my fault? No." Kurt shook his head. "I can't leave her. I won't do it."

"Fuck." Blaine breathed. Blaine knew Kurt was loyal to fault, but this? He reached across the table and grabbed Kurt's hand. "Kurt…it could be a trap."

Kurt lifted his chin defiantly. "Let him try. He can't touch me. He can't touch us. Or what we have." He squeezed Blaine's hand, eyes proud and confident.

Oh God, this was such a bad idea. But Blaine didn't really have a choice. Not when Kurt looked at him like that.

"Guess we're going to New York." Blaine tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach.

_Please don't let me regret this._

* * *

><p>-<em>New York, New York-<em>

Being back in the Big Apple was weird.

Like Kurt was two different persons.

On one hand, a design student back from an extended break, ready to start the new semester fresh. A familiar coffee shop beckoned to him with memories of spending hours at the little table tucked in the back next to the window and the chair that creaked unless he sat in a certain way and the blushing barista that always had his mocha ready by the time he got to the front of the line. The same townhouses he walked past every day to class, the same crowded sidewalks, the same screaming taxi cabs. Like he'd never left.

But Kurt saw the world with new eyes now.

Every darkened alley was a potential ambush, every stranger a possible enemy.

Everything was the same, but shifted.

Even Rachel's apartment.

The landlady knew Kurt, so he waited outside while Blaine talked to her. Kurt wasn't positive if he was an FBI agent or a state trooper this time. He hadn't paid much attention to anything every since the news broadcast and _RachelRachelRachel._

He pulled the coat around him tighter and tugged his knit hat down lower. It was supposed to be for a disguise. Kurt used it to hide. He kind of wanted to throw up.

Rachel could be dead or dying and it was entirely his fault.

Kurt thought about just turning himself in to Sebastian. To protect the ones he loved.

_Like Blaine._

Blaine would kill him if he tried.

Kurt shivered in the cold December air.

Maybe not yet. He had to focus on getting Rachel back first. Kurt was almost positive this was due to Sebastian, His stomach lurched again and Kurt swayed a bit before he caught himself.

"You ok, dude?"

_Oh shit._

Kurt's head whipped up at the familiar voice before he could think better of it.

"Oh my…Kurt!" The tall man in front of Kurt let his mouth fall open and he almost dropped his bag of groceries. Kurt caught them on reflex, mind whirring at a million miles a second.

Letting Finn Hudson see him was definitely not part of the plan.

Finn had a dumbstruck look on his face for a few seconds before breaking into a grin and launching himself at Kurt, bags forgotten on the sidewalk. "Kurt! Oh my god, you're here! You're back!" Finn wrapped his huge frame around Kurt's and squeezed tight. Against Kurt's better judgment, he relaxed, hugging Finn back.

"Missed you, Frankenteen," Kurt mumbled into Finn's shoulder, eyes leaking and smiling sadly. Finn was one of his best friends, and it had hurt to give them up to go with Blaine all those months ago. He pulled away, wiping at his eyes and getting a good look at Finn.

Finn was still freakishly tall with sweet brown eyes and messy brown hair. He still had an easy smile, but it was slightly worn and his eyes were tired. Kurt saw signs of sleeplessness: dark circles under Finn's eyes, shoulders hunched as if the effort to hold them up was too much. Kurt's smile slipped.

"I…I heard about Rachel," Kurt said, not liking the way Finn instantly deflated. "How are you holding up?"

Finn just looked at him before slumping down on the apartment building steps. Kurt sat next to him. Hiding his face in his hands, Finn didn't answer. Kurt didn't push it, but rubbed his back with one gloved hand. Finn had a big heart; which meant he felt things more than most. After a minute or so, Finn gave a great sniff and shot Kurt such a tortured look that Kurt felt his heart break and a stab of guilt shoot through his body.

"We got back together a few weeks after you vanished." Finn choked out, not looking at Kurt. "She took it hard, by the way. All of us did." He glared at Kurt before studying the sidewalk again.

"I'm sorry," Kurt whispered. He wrapped his arms around himself. Blaine would be back soon.

"Um, yeah. I'm still pissed at you for that." Finn wiped his nose with his sleeve and glared at Kurt again, as if daring him to say something about it. The old Kurt would have. "Rachel's been different. I can't figure it out. Right after we started going out again, she got a uh, a lead. In some play…something about directions?"

"'West Side Story'?"

"Yeah, that one!" Finn smiled. "Didn't even audition, the guy picked her out from the streets. She was really excited that first night. And it went really well and then she had a bunch of offers from a couple other plays and she sang like, all the time in the apartment which was really annoying but nice, you know? She was so happy all her dreams were coming true and everything." Finn's voice trailed off. "She didn't come home after rehearsals on Thursday." Kurt watched as his friend seemed to get smaller right before his eyes. "Like, it wasn't that out of the ordinary. She'd been staying out late a lot and not getting in until like three, but she always came home." Finn voice broke and Kurt's arms were around him in a flash.

As he comforted, Finn, something felt off to Kurt.

Rachel was talented. Unbelievably so.

But she was still in college and hadn't quite learned how to balance projecting and overacting. Kurt had spent many nights with Rachel sobbing into his shoulder after yet another failed audition and soothing her feelings when some director tore her to shreds. And landing Maria without an audition on _Broadway_? That was just unheard of.

_Rachel, what were you into?_

Kurt's phone rang and he nearly dropped it as he struggled to get it out while holding onto Finn. Blaine. Kurt hit accept, confused. "Yeah, Blaine?" He saw Finn's eyebrows rise but ignored him.

"_Kurt, I think you need to come up here."_ Blaine's voice was serious. _"Your friend …just come up here."_

Something was definitely off. Poor Finn probably had no idea. Speaking of… "Blaine, I, um. I have Rachel's boyfriend with me."

Pause. _"Rachel's boyfriend?"_

Kurt made a noncommittal noise.

"_You were friends with him."_ It wasn't a question, so Kurt said nothing. Blaine knew anyway. _"Dammit, Kurt, we said no one else!"_

"Look, I didn't plan this, ok?" Kurt snapped. Finn stared at him with wide eyes. "They weren't together when I left. But this is his girlfriend; Finn can tell us what he knows. He won't get involved."

Blaine let out a huff of air. _"Just get up here. You need to see something."_

"I'm sorry, Blaine."

"_No, I'm sorry I yelled. Just…get up here. I don't like this."_ Blaine hung up.

Kurt pocketed the phone and nudged Finn. "Come on. Let's go see Rachel's. And yours, I guess."

Finn eyed him strangely, but got up and opened the building's doors without a word.

Blaine stood by the door when Kurt and Finn entered. Kurt was hit with a wave of nostalgia as he passed through the door. He spent a lot of time in this apartment. He shared it with Rachel for two years before moving in with Jesse. Rachel had kept most of his decorations. Kurt absently brushed his fingers against the dark blue vase on the countertop.

The apartment itself was fairly neat. Little splashes of Finn popped up, from the coat thrown over the couch to the dirty dishes in the sink.

"I was gonna get those," Finn muttered, blushing. He noticed Blaine. "Who're you?"

Blaine glanced at Kurt for a second before holding out his hand. "Blaine. I'm Kurt's…um, I'm a friend of Kurt."

"No." Kurt said suddenly. Finn and Blaine looked at him. "Finn, he's my boyfriend." He didn't miss Blaine's face lighting up. God, the boy was such a sweetheart. Finn narrowed his eyes and Kurt hurried to cut him off. "Anyway, Blaine, what's going on?"

Blaine sobered up quickly. "Right." He muttered. "Finn, right?" Finn nodded, still suspicious. "Do you…have you noticed Rachel acting strangely lately?"

Snorting, Kurt rolled his eyes. Honestly, Rachel was always strange. Full of superstitions and bizarre rituals. Like the ice bath for her face and how she had to have a triple whip soy green tea latte before every audition. From this one coffee shop in Brooklyn.

"Kind of?" Finn said, confused. "Like I told Kurt, she sorta became a star like overnight and then she started staying out really late." He frowned, pulling his eyebrows in tight. "And she won't let me in her closet, but I thought she was just getting like Kurt, 'cause he wouldn't let me near his closet either. Wait, how'd you get in my house?"

"That's because your big hamburger hands don't have any reason to be anywhere near my vintage Marc Jacobs." Kurt said, ignoring Finn's last question. Then he paled. "Oh please tell me my clothes are alright." He'd left Jesse in such a hurry he'd left most of his closet behind. Oh God. What if Jesse threw them out? Or sold them to Goodwill? After raiding it for himself, the greedy fucker. He probably stole that little red scarf with black skulls and gold detailing.

Blaine's hand on his shoulder interrupted his thoughts. "Calm down, tiger," Blaine grinned.

Kurt smacked his hand away. "Shut up. Why did you call us up here anyway?"

Blaine waved Finn over. "I found out why she didn't want you looking in her closet." Blaine led them to Rachel's room. The closet doors were flung open and inside…

"Oh my god," Kurt breathed.

A small black altar was nestled among the clothes. Kurt stared at the large, decorated gold bowl and piles of dried herbs and half-burned candles as Blaine carefully lifted a thick black book from the top. Faded gold Latin script sat on the cover around a strange foreign symbol. Finn just gaped, completely lost as to why his girlfriend would hide such weird things in her room.

"What the fuck is that, Blaine?" Kurt couldn't take his eyes off of the book. It felt wrong.

Blaine sighed and opened it, thumbing through the yellowed pages. "It's a spellbook."

"A spellbook?"

"For witches."

Finn snapped out of his daze at that. "Rachel's not a witch!" he interjected angrily.

Shrugging, Blaine closed the book, but didn't put it down. "Maybe not, but she's pretending to be. This explains her meteoric rise to fame, though." Blaine sat on the edge of the bed, taking in Kurt and Finn's twin confused looks. "Some witches get their power from demons. It may not have been intentional," Blaine hurried to cut off Kurt. "But the power of the spells lies in demon magic. If Rachel used the spells in here, she could manipulate fate in such a way that she would get a huge break. Like landing a lead in a major Broadway play."

Kurt's mind reeled. He knew Rachel was ambitious, but this seemed a little much. Black magic? _Christ, Rachel…_

Finn shook his head. "No. Rachel is not a witch. She's not! I may be dumb, but I'm not stupid. Witches aren't real."

Blaine looked pained. "Finn, I know this isn't easy to hear, but—"

"No! Shut up!" Finn yelled. He glared at the altar through his tears.

"Finn…" Kurt started, moving closer to his friend. "Finn, Blaine knows what he's talking about. Rachel …"

"Get out. Both of you." Finn said calmly. It sounded out of place coming from Finn's mouth. "How dare you show up after four months after disappearing without a word and start accusing your best friend of something like this?"

Kurt fell silent at the intimidating look on Finn's face. Blaine touched his shoulder and Kurt followed him out of the apartment without a word. At the door, he turned back for a second. "I'm really sorry, Finn." Kurt said, voice trembling. "I'm going to get her back." He left Finn in the empty apartment, feeling like shit.

"It's gonna be okay, Kurt," Blaine pulled him into a tight hug on the steps. "It's just another job. Remember that."

"But it's Rachel." Kurt shook with the effort to not fall apart. _This is my fault._

Blaine shook his head. "No. This is a job. An overzealous girl who dabbled in black magic and got overwhelmed. So we have to put things right. Right?" He gripped Kurt's shoulders until his boyfriend nodded. "Ok. So what do we do next?"

Kurt looked at a long crack in the wall behind Blaine. No amount of plaster could fill that. What would he do next? If this was some faceless stranger?

"Talk to the cast of the play." Kurt breathed out. "I'd talk to the cast. She was last seen with them."

Blaine broke into a wide grin. "Yeah. We'll make a hunter out of you yet." He took in Kurt's long look at Rachel's closed apartment door and lowered his voice. "Finn will come around."

Kurt shrugged. "I don't really deserve anything from him." He said sadly.

* * *

><p>The play director—a small man with a large bald spot and a sad penchant for enormous purple bowties—kept eying Kurt and Blaine suspiciously, but seemed to accept their cover story of FBI agents. Stanley Towalski had a short temper and a mean bark, but deflated at the first mention of Rachel.<p>

"She was a gift," he sighed, guiding the agents through the set designs to the stage. "Her understudy has been going on, but the girl's an understudy for a reason. No passion. No fire!" Towalski snapped his fingers dramatically.

"Rachel always was a diva," Kurt muttered to Blaine. "These two probably got on fabulously."

On the stage, the cast was engaged in various stages of stretching. They clustered in groups, talking quietly amongst each other. No one was alone. The instant the cast spied Towalski, they abandoned their conversations and flew back into stretches and vocal exercises.

"Back to work! I ain't paying you worthless lot to sit around!" Towalski shot an intimidating glare at a small girl, who squeaked and ran back to her group. Stereotypical director.

Seeing the dancers stretching and the singers warming up by the piano, Kurt had a sudden urge to jump in. But his dreams of Broadway had died long ago. The fact remained that he simply did not fit any current parts, and the bills couldn't be paid with hope. But they could with fashion.

Still, his fingers twitched when the piano began playing. He hoped Blaine hadn't noticed.

Then he saw it.

A head of dark hair, even curlier than Blaine's. The man was tall and thin, and even with his back turned Kurt knew.

"Oh, fuck."

Maybe Jesse wouldn't see him. Maybe he'd just stay over there and flirt with that blonde chick. Kurt pressed closer to Blaine, ducking his head. Blaine shot him a weird look, but continued interrogating the director.

Kurt tried to calm his breathing. It had been months, why the hell was he so freaked out now? It should not hurt like this to see him. Not after throwing him and his current girlfriend out of his dad's house before the service. Blaine hadn't even met him yet. Maybe he never would. He chanced a quick look at the man and then almost died. Jesse was walking towards them, a big smile on his face.

_Oh no._

He quickly schooled his face into impassiveness.

"Mr. Towalski! Jen over there has been smoking behind the building for last few days, so if you want a singing Anita, I would go stop her." Jesse flashed a winning grin as the director scowled and marched off, hollering for Jen. The girl in question paled and ran. Blaine let his question die on his lips and glared at Jesse.

"Who the fuck are you?" Blaine crossed his arms. Next to Jesse, who was tall and skinny, Blaine looked like an annoyed, fluffy poodle. This would not end well.

Jesse flashed his brightest smile—his "_curing cancer" _smile, as he called it—and stuck out a hand. "Well, Kurt, I see you've moved on," Jesse winked at Kurt. "Still a fan of curly hair, I see."

Blaine narrowed his eyes but shook Jesse's hand apprehensively. "You know Kurt?"

Kurt sighed. "Blaine, this is Jesse St. James." Kurt rocked on his feet and bit his lip. "My…ex-boyfriend."

Jesse slid an arm around Kurt's waist tugging him flush against his body. "Oh Kurt, so direct!" Blaine just stared, as if trying to comprehend the sight of Kurt and Jesse together. Jesse eyed Blaine's body hungrily. "I must say, you have many flaws, but taste is not one of them. What do you say we all go back to my place and swap stories and drink until we fuck or pass out? Oh Blaine, wait 'til you see, Kurt loves it when you take your tongue and—" Jesse's hand wandered down to Kurt's ass.

Rolling his eyes and blushing dark red, Kurt shoved Jesse away and darted next to Blaine, eyes promising pain. Blaine looked torn between fury and disgust.

"Hmm. Figures. You always were a prude, China," Jesse scoffed. Kurt tensed, gripping Blaine's arm tightly. "Why are you here anyway? Oh," Jesse's grin got wider. "Little Miss Rachel Berry? Come to find our very own missing Barbra?"

"You were friends with her too," Kurt said icily. "What do you know?"

Jesse changed his face to one of wide-eyed innocence. "Nothing. She was here one day, and gone the next. So tragic." Jesse pouted slightly. "So young and so much to live for. But we got free publicity so there's that. All the better to help me play a heartbroken Tony," He shrugged.

Blaine's mouth hung open and Kurt nudged him to close it. "Was there anyone in the cast she was close with?" Kurt asked. He felt Blaine's eyes on him, practically screaming _You dated this guy?_ but there wasn't time to deal with that yet. Later.

"No. Most of the cast wanted to kill her after the first week," Jesse said casually. "Too bad she's gone though. Finn must be out of his mind." His mouth quirked up in a smile.

Kurt narrowed his eyes. "Those are our friends you're talking about," he growled, stepping forward. "How dare you."

He got a shrug and a smirk in return. "Well, kitty is showing his claws." Jessed drawled. "Here's hoping you and Fluffy here can save poor Rachel." With a wink, Jesse sauntered away, leaving a frazzled Kurt and annoyed Blaine in his wake.

"Better find Rachel soon," Jesse called out suddenly. "She probably misses her books and the spotlight!" He waved and vanished backstage.

Blaine wrinkled his nose in disgust. "I still can't believe you dated that," he muttered.

"I got an upgrade," Kurt replied absently. Something Jesse said was off. "Blaine," Kurt said slowly, "How did Jesse know about the books?"

Blaine stared at him for a second then sighed. "Oh no."

* * *

><p>Her voice gave out a long time ago. Rachel wasn't certain how long she'd been taken since she was certain she'd passed out at some point and she was fed at random intervals.<p>

The ropes dug into her wrists. Rachel blinked away tears at the pain, having given up escape days before. She wondered if anyone missed her.

The warehouse was silent except for a few water drips and snuffling in the dark corners. She let out a small, muffled whimper.

"Hello there, Rachel."

Rachel squeezed she eyes shut at the voice breathing in her ear. _No._

"Oh now don't be like that, sweetheart. We've been having such fun together!" A hand caressed her face and slide down her side. Rachel twisted violently away, but the hand clamped to her side with an iron grip and held her in place. "That was rude, my little diva."

She opened her eyes to glare at him. How she ever trusted him, she'd never know. How _Kurt_ ever trusted him. That spellbook was the worst idea she'd ever had. Next to him.

He'd shown up one night after another rejected audition with a bottle of rum and then he was telling her about this book and how to work it. Finding her the bowls and candles and herbs. And then she was the star of Broadway.

And now he held her in the boondocks in some old building, starving her and scaring her.

She'd though he was her friend.

Jesse smiled and ran his fingers through her knotted hair. "He's back, you know. I was so close, too." Jesse's eyes got a faraway look in them. "He was right there. Letting that hunter run his hands all over his body. I wanted to rip that boy's skin off and eat his heart in front of him. But I had to be patient." His voice turned hard. "He's looking for you. I'm sure he'll be able to work it out and then? He'll be mine again," Jesse giggled and leaned close to Rachel's ear, holding her still. "I must say, I missed that perfect body of his," he whispered.

Rachel fought the urge to throw up. Jesse straightened and backed off, slapping Rachel's face. "So just sit tight. I'm sure you'll be 'rescued' soon." Jesse smiled and left Rachel with her stinging cheek and terror.

Who was looking for her? Who was Jesse talking about?

"Kurt," Rachel breathed. She couldn't believe it. There was no way. But it made sense.

She was going to be saved soon. Kurt would find her.

But suddenly, Rachel sort of hoped Kurt would stay away from Jesse. Those black eyes meant nothing good.

* * *

><p>Something twisted in Kurt's gut. It was like all of the pieces were right in front of his nose, but for some reason, they wouldn't click.<p>

He and Blaine had asked around after Jesse left and the general consensus was that Rachel usually went to Jesse's place after practice before going home to Finn. And if that wasn't weird enough, all of the girls (and a few guys) turned bright red at the mere mention of Jesse's name.

So he and Blaine were camped out in front of Jesse's apartment building, watching. Kurt hadn't spoken much. New York was bringing back a lot of memories.

Like where he would be if he hadn't met Blaine. _Probably would have gone back to Jesse._

Rachel and Finn. _Safe and happy._

What his life would have been like.

That one gave Kurt pause and he lowered the binoculars. His dad would still be dead. The nightmares would have gotten much worse much more quickly. Sebastian would have found him. Easily. And used him.

No, Kurt Hummel was never destined for a mundane life.

But a slightly less exciting one would have been nice.

"I used to live in that apartment. Third window up, two over from the right." Kurt said quietly. "It's strange to be back here. I never thought I'd see this place again."

"Do you regret it?" Blaine's voice was quiet.

"No." Kurt said honestly. He didn't. Blaine was worth it, even if he didn't believe it. "Any sign of Jesse?" he whispered.

Blaine shrugged in response, still staring resolutely at the old apartment building. He hadn't spoken much since the theater either.

"Are you mad at me?" Kurt asked in a small voice.

"No." Blaine sighed. He turned around, studying Kurt. "It's just…I've never been anyone's boyfriend before. And I've never had to meet the exes either. And then _he_ shows up and starts talking about you in front of me and I can't…" Blaine clenched his hand to stop the shaking. "I just wasn't expecting that," he muttered, turning back the building.

Kurt nodded slowly. "You know, Jesse wasn't always like that. Crude, I mean," he said. Blaine just shrugged. "I mean it. He was a little full of himself and had an ego the size of the Chrysler building, but he was never cruel like he was today. I don't know what happened." Kurt trailed off, watching the third floor window over Blaine's shoulder. He hadn't seen the inside since before finding Jesse with that girl in their bed. Kurt wondered if they were still together. He doubted it.

They sat in silence.

It was almost three in the morning before anything changed. Blaine had long since fallen asleep against the window and Kurt hadn't had the heart to wake him after the rough week he'd been through. The building was mostly dark except for the lobby. Just after three, though, Kurt saw someone moving in front of the doors.

Kurt elbowed Blaine quickly, rolling his eyes at Blaine's sleepy grunts. The figure was at the door now, and Kurt caught a flash of familiar curly hair. "Shit, it's Jesse," Kurt hissed and yanked Blaine below the window and out of sight. "What the fuck is he doing out this late?" Kurt felt sick at the thought of his ex-boyfriend actually being involved with Rachel's disappearance. Wisely, Blaine stayed quiet. After a few seconds, he peeked outside.

"He's looking around. Now he's getting into a car. You wanna follow him?" Blaine glanced at Kurt, who nodded. Blaine swore softly. New York may be the city that never sleeps, but trailing someone at three in the morning was still difficult. Their street was mostly deserted, which meant he had to give Jesse a good head start. But then he ran the risk of losing Jesse in one of the million side streets New York had to offer.

Well, no point in worrying. "Text Finn." Blaine said as he sat up. He kept his eye on Jesse's dark sedan, letting it get to the end of the block before turning his own car on. "Tell him that we might have a lead on Rachel and that if we don't show up by morning he needs to call Santana." Kurt raised his eyebrow, but obeyed.

Blaine didn't like the feeling growing in his stomach as they followed Jesse farther and farther out of the city. Jesse wasn't even taking any precautions. As far as Blaine could tell, the actor was taking the most direct route possible to his destination. Whatever it was.

Kurt frowned next to him, chewing on one fingernail. He just shrugged at Blaine's attempts at conversation, so Blaine let it drop.

* * *

><p>They finally came to a large, old marina about twenty minutes outside the city and on the banks of the Hudson Rivers. The entire complex looked abandoned, with weeds growing through the pavement and half of the roofs caved in. Blaine hung back, flicking his headlights off and creeping forward slowly. Jesse drove to a large warehouse at the edge of the property. He parked, got out, glanced around, and slipped in through a side door. Blaine parked out of sight by a half-collapsed office building and shut the car off.<p>

He glanced at Kurt. "I really don't like this," he admitted. Kurt didn't answer, but hauled the bag from the backseat up to the front and began picking out weapons. Two knives, a shotgun, a bottle of holy water. "Kurt—"

"I'm doing this." Kurt interrupted. He shot Blaine a proud look. "Rachel is my friend. I won't let her get hurt because of me."

Not for the first time, Blaine cursed Kurt's ridiculous hero complex. But he didn't argue and picked out his own weapons: another shotgun, extra casings, a container of salt, and bottle of holy water. "Remind me to stop by Matt's after this. We're running low on holy water."

Something was wrong about this situation. Blaine couldn't shake the weird feeling from the car as he and Kurt crept up to the warehouse. It wasn't protected at all. No booby traps, no guard. The warehouse loomed in front of them as Blaine marched to the door. Which was slightly ajar. They could hear Jesse talking about the play to someone.

No, something was definitely not right.

_Could we be wrong? Maybe Jesse is just a freak._ Blaine motioned for Kurt to stay behind him as he peaked though the door.

A short brunette girl was in the center of the mostly empty room, her arms above her head and tied to a pipe in the ceiling. A strip of cloth covered her mouth and wild eyes stayed fixed on the other man in the room. Jesse. He seemed even more intimidating in the moonlight, fingering a large knife and leaning nonchalantly against one wall. Blaine sucked in a breath at the sight of his eyes.

"Demon," he breathed, suddenly aware of exactly how unprepared he and Kurt were. Why hadn't they waited for morning? Finn probably wasn't even awake. He heard Kurt unscrewing the water bottle with the holy water. Maybe Jesse wasn't a strong demon. Otherwise the water would do little more than irritate the demon.

"Plan?" Kurt whispered.

Blaine thought quickly. They had surprise on their side. Jesse was still rambling to Rachel about the play she was missing, so he wouldn't be prepared for a sudden attack. Something nagged at Blaine.

_This is almost too easy…_

"We'll take him by surprise. Jesse is at two o'clock, Rachel at four. I'll hit him with the holy water then the salt shells. You go for Rachel. That's our first priority." Blaine whispered directly into Kurt's ear. Hopefully Jesse was too caught up in his voice to hear theirs. Kurt nodded, handing Blaine the holy water, Blaine could feel him shaking, though more from adrenaline than terror. With luck, it would stay like that. "Ready?"

Kurt squeezed his shoulder.

"Three. Two. One—"

Blaine darted around the edge, holy water ready to be thrown when a hand clamped around his neck and cut off his air.

"Blaine!"

He couldn't breathe. Jesse smirked and squeezed his throat harder. Blaine struggled to keep a grip on the bottle as the shotgun tumbled from his weakened fingers.

"Oh come on, Anderson, that was pathetic!" Jesse laughed. He backed into the room, dragging Blaine along ruthlessly. "Seriously, worst sneak attack ever. Kurtie, you're slipping, dear." He stopped next to Rachel, keeping Blaine in between himself and Kurt. Rachel stared at Kurt with wide, scared eyes, but otherwise didn't look too hurt. Just dirty and terrified.

"Don't call me that." Kurt gritted out. He had his shotgun raised, but Blaine was in the way. "Let him go."

Jesse shrugged, then released Blaine. Blaine sucked in a quick breath. He immediately coughed at the sudden rush of air. Then a tight pressure wrapped around his body and Blaine gasped in pain. _Demon magic. Shit, he's powerful._ Jesse twirled his finger, spinning Blaine around to face a furious Kurt. Rachel looked like she was trying to say something, but the gag was very effective and all she managed were some short and muffled grunts. Kurt risked a step forward.

Jesse held up a finger. "Take another step and I'll crush his chest." At his words, Blaine let out a sharp cry when Jesse's magic clenched his body tighter. Oh, but this was so bad. Kurt stopped, but his face darkened into a look of rage Blaine had never seen before.

Kurt's eyes kept darting from Blaine to Jesse to Rachel. Blaine could see the indecision. Shooting Jesse meant he risked hitting Blaine. Or Rachel. And Kurt had the buckshot gun, not the salt. _Shit._ Blaine struggled in Jesse's invisible grip. Kurt inclined his head slightly. _What…?_

Rachel suddenly kicked at the floor, sending up a cloud of dirt into Jesse's eyes. Jesse yelled in surprised, his concentration breaking as he wiped at his eyes. _I can move._ Blaine barely had time to think before he dumped half of the holy water on Jesse. The demon screamed as the water made contact with his skin. The acrid scent of burned flesh filled the room and Jesse stumbled backwards, smoking. Kurt wasted no time getting between Jesse and Blaine, shotgun raised threateningly.

Jesse glared from across the room. Steam rose from his body and the skin was an angry red. "That. Hurt." His eyes turned black. Blaine began untying Rachel.

"Don't you dare move." Kurt said, voice low and dangerous. Jesse held his hands up, but kept his eyes black. Blaine shivered slightly as he finally got Rachel's arms down. She almost fell onto him, legs wobbly after being on her feet for several days in a row. Blaine eased the gag off of her, whispering for her to stay quiet. Kurt snorted in front of them. "Rachel Berry does not do 'quiet,' Blaine," he muttered, mouth quirking up.

Rachel laughed quietly before sobering up. "Finn…"

Blaine put a hand on Rachel's shoulder. "He's okay. Just worried about you."

She sighed in relief, smiling. Her grin faded. "Kurt, this is a trap. We have to—"

"I know." Kurt interrupted. His voice was calm. "But I want answers."

Blaine could help but think that power suited Kurt. Even covered in dirt and sweat, he looked beautiful and terrifying.

"How long?" Kurt asked, voice hard. "How long has Jesse been possessed?"

Jesse leaned against the wall, inspecting his fingernails lazily. "Oh a few weeks after you met. Give or take." He flashed a brilliant white grin, laughing when he saw how Kurt trembled. "I was a great actor, wasn't I?"

Next to Blaine, Rachel gasped. "How could you! You lying, traitorous sneak, I trusted you!" For a tiny little thing, she certainly had some spunk. "And-and Kurt! How could you hurt him like that?"

Jesse rolled his eyes. "Uh, demon." He gestured to himself. "Kinda comes with the territory." His expression changed. "Enough. Kurtsie, put the gun down. We both know it's completely useless." Jesse's face turned confident as his eyes shifted to black.

To his credit, Kurt didn't move. "Don't call me that." He snapped. "Was any of it real?" Kurt's voice was so small and hurt and betrayed that Blaine wanted to touch his boyfriend and hug him and keep him safe. But he couldn't give Jesse any more ammunition. Like a relationship.

"Nope." Jesse flicked an invisible piece of lint from his shoulders. "Anyway, read y, sweet thing? I'll even let those useless humans live." Rachel bristled, but Blaine stayed silent. Fear crept up his back at Jesse's eagerness to claim Kurt.

For his part, Kurt kept the gun trained on the demon, but shifted closer to Blaine. "Why bother with a relationship anyway?" he barked out. Blaine glanced at Kurt and saw the anger thrumming beneath his skin. "If you wanted me, why string me along like that? What did it accomplish?"

"Had to keep an eye on our baby," a new voice drawled from behind them.

Blaine whipped around to see a tall, thin man with cold green eyes and a cocky grin leaning against the doorway. The man cocked an eyebrow.

"Long time, no torture, huh sweetie?" His smile turned cruel. The blood drained from Kurt's face, but Blaine had to admire how he kept his face expressionless. Jesse, on the other hand, instantly caved.

"Sebastian." Jesse swallowed nervously. "Y-you got here fast." When Sebastian turned a disapproving glare on the demon, Jesse straightened up, feigning confidence. "I told you the girl would work."

Rachel let out an indignant _Hey!_ before Blaine elbowed her. Something was going on and he didn't completely understand it. But this was the demon that had been slowly driving Kurt insane for months and terrified his boyfriend to the point that Kurt sometimes still woke up screaming. His fingers itched to close around the meerkat-faced man and choke the life out of him.

Sebastian smirked at Blaine's dark look before focusing on Jesse. "Yes, the trap may have worked. But you are cutting it pretty close, Noodle-Head, and need I remind you that it was _you_ who lost Hummel in the first place?"

Kurt frowned and narrowed his eyes as Jesse began protesting. "But it wasn't my fault! He wasn't supposed to come back early that day; I was supposed to have more time!"

Blaine wondered what day he was babbling about. From the way Kurt stiffened, he certainly knew.

The fear poured out of Jesse. "And he was supposed to be coming back to New York! How was I supposed to know about Anderson showing up and taking him away?" Jesse's eyes were wide and sulky.

Kurt stared at Jesse with a frighteningly blank expression. "You'd cheated on me before. That day was just the first time I caught you."

Unsurprisingly, Sebastian ignored Kurt's betrayed whisper. He sauntered over to Jesse, grabbing the demons thick curls and forcing his head back. Jesse swallowed. "You were supposed to keep him close." Sebastian's voice held carefully controlled rage. "You were supposed to keep him with you while we prepared him for his destiny by slowly chipping away his old life."

Blaine felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on him. Slowly chipping away his old life meant…

"The succubus." Kurt choked out. His grip on the shotgun turned white and he squeezed the cold metal. "That was your plan. You let that bitch out so she could murder my dad. So I wouldn't have anyone to go home to." He shook slightly, and Blaine risked a quick brush of his fingers against Kurt's hip. Kurt didn't react.

Rachel suddenly pulled Blaine down so she could whisper in his ear. "Kurt feels weird," she said.

"What?" Blaine tried to focus on Rachel but was distracted by the delighted look that came over Sebastian's face.

She _humph_-ed impatiently. "I said he feels weird! His...aura…is all off. It doesn't feel right." Rachel wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. "I'm a witch; I'm much more in tune with the spirit world than most. But Kurt feels _different._"

Blaine nodded, frowning. He could tell the atmosphere in the warehouse was strange. It felt like something was growing and building and the air practically pulsed with power. _Kurt…_

Sebastian cackled, a horrible sound. He clapped sarcastically. "Congratulations! Give the boy a cookie." He winked at Kurt, and Blaine barely had time to drop his weapons and wrap his arms around Kurt before his boyfriend charged the demon and got them all killed.

In his grip, Kurt struggled violently and let loose an impressive stream of curses that made Rachel blush and Jesse look almost impressed. Strangely, though, Sebastian didn't appear too worried about Kurt's outburst. Warning bells went off in Blaine's mind.

Kurt suddenly stopped and stood stock-still. He ignored Blaine's comforting strokes and soothing whispers. Blaine was scared. He'd never seen Kurt's eyes filled with that much hate before. It scared him. Kurt wouldn't even look at him. Sebastian wore a look of approval, as if the rage was his goal all along. Blaine brought his lips to Kurt's ear.

"Kurt…" No reaction. Blaine pressed on. "Kurt, baby, you have to calm down; don't give them what they want." He searched Kurt's face, but there was no change. But Kurt dragged his ice-cold blue eyes to Blaine.

"Blaine," he said, and Blaine kind of wanted to cry because this was _not_ the boy he loved, "Shut the fuck up and let me go so I can rip his heart out with my bare hands." Even Rachel took a step back at the cold fury in Kurt's voice. Kurt glanced at the movement before hardening his face once more.

"Kurt, please," Blaine whispered. He knew Sebastian and Jesse were watching them, probably biding their time, but he needed this. "Kurt, _please_."

He glared, but Kurt's eyes softened. "Blaine—"

"Enough. I'm bored." Sebastian interrupted. He crooked a finger, and Kurt was torn out of Blaine's grasp and thrown into the wall with a sharp crack. Blaine yelled as Kurt collapsed in a heap on the floor, clutching his head. Blood trickled over his fingers. "Get the girl." Sebastian barked at Jesse, who crossed the room in two strides and caught Rachel before she could bolt. He twisted her arms behind her back, ignoring her cry of pain, and roughly gripped her hair to hold her head steady.

Blaine never felt more exposed. He couldn't even consider running, not without Kurt. Faced with two demons, one extremely powerful, Blaine suddenly realized he had a good chance of dying tonight.

Well. Better go down with a fight then. He readied himself, knowing hand-to-hand with a demon is about as effective as throwing a rock at an incoming wave, but he had to try. For Kurt.

Who was trying to stand up. Blood coated half of his face, but Kurt used the wall to get to his feet. Sebastian watched with amusement; Blaine with fear. Kurt took a shaky step forward.

"Oh now, none of that," Sebastian laughed. He waved his hand and Blaine ducked as the pipe Rachel had been tied to ripped itself out of the scaffolding. Kurt's eyes widened as the pipe curved into a U-shape and flew across the room, catching him around his chest and pinning his arms to his side. The ends buried themselves into the metal wall, effectively trapping Kurt.

Panic overtook the rage in Kurt's eyes as he struggled against the unmoving metal. "No—" Kurt choked out. "No!"

"Shut up!" Sebastian snapped. He turned his back on Kurt and stood in front of Blaine, running his eyes over Blaine's body. Blaine had the urge to curl up in a ball and hide. He'd never felt so exposed before. Sebastian reached out a finger and stroked Blaine's cheek lightly, humming in appreciation. Blaine fought down the urge to be sick. It felt nothing like how Kurt touched him. Then Blaine realized he _couldn't_ move. Sebastian's smirk got wider when Blaine's muscles trembled with the effort to break free and get to Kurt. "What do you say, Kurt?" Sebastian gripped Blaine's chin and forced him to look at Kurt. "Shall we recreate some of the fun times we've had in your head?"

Turning that white could not be healthy. Kurt's expression turned dark and furious. "Don't touch him."

Sebastian trailed a long finger around Blaine's pulse point on his neck, caressing the skin. Blaine inwardly panicked. He remembered Kurt screaming every night and clutching at him; scared of waking up to find Blaine in a pool of blood.

Blaine wasn't afraid to die. He'd lay down for Kurt in a heartbeat.

But he couldn't let Kurt watch this.

"He's pretty." Sebastian traced Blaine's shoulder. Blaine sucked in a breath as Sebastian dragged a finger down the front of his chest. He froze in place and squeezed his eyes shut. God, if only he could _move_ he'd kill Sebastian so fast that the vessel would be completely useless and he'd have to leave for a new one. But magic kept his arms tight at his sides and his feet cemented to the floor. Hands felt up his arms and trailed down his back, inching closer and closer to—

"Let. Him. Go."

Blaine let out a breath when the warmth of Sebastian backed away from his body, then opened his eyes at the cold tone in Kurt's voice. Rachel whimpered behind him, but Blaine stared at Kurt.

The air was even thicker; tenser, like a single spark would ignite it. Kurt's chest rose and fell heavily, and his eyes…

Blaine blinked. Kurt's eyes were still blue, but he could swear the whites were almost gone. There was no mistaking that look of fury, though. And his voice was deeper. _Kurt…_

Smile widening, Sebastian actually took a step closer to Blaine. "The little gayface is acting tough! Isn't that sweet, Jesse?"

Jesse nodded mutely. He looked nervous.

"I've got to get new help. No sense of humor." Sebastian shrugged and slung an arm around Blaine, pressing close to his side and throwing a quick look at Kurt. Kurt narrowed his eyes as Sebastian resumed feeling Blaine's body. "Oh, I knew you were hiding something under here," Sebastian crowed, running his hands low across Blaine's stomach muscles. Blaine squeezed his eyes shut, humiliated. How the hell could he get out of this?

"Kurt, he has a beautiful mouth. Are you well acquainted with it?"

_No. Please no._

Blaine hadn't realized it was possible for someone's face to radiate that much hate. Sebastian didn't seem to care that Kurt looked like he was planning a long and painful death for the demon; he just pressed closer to Blaine in a sick kind of embrace.

"He's a little short for my tastes, but on his knees, he's the perfect height."

_Don't let him know you're scared._ Blaine stared over Sebastian's shoulder. When he felt Sebastian's hands wander south, though, Blaine couldn't help but send up a quick prayer. _Please someone help us…_

The atmosphere got thicker, rolled and churned. He could _feel_ the rage, couldn't Sebastian, why wasn't he scared?

"I'm sure you know what I mean, though, right, Kurtsie? Oh yes, Jesse told me about your little nickname. But Blaine on his knees, oh, that must turn you on so much. How you can flip him over and shove in and fuck him deep and dirty. And he likes it, doesn't he? Blaine has cockslut written all over his forehead." Sebastian tapped Blaine's temple and grinned. Blaine concentrated on not throwing up at the awful things the demon was saying. Because he and Kurt _loved_ each other, and Kurt would never treat sex like that, like Blaine meant nothing. _They_ meant something. "Is he like that with everyone?" _No, you bastard. _"I think we should find out."

A sudden pressure on the back of his neck forced Blaine to his knees. _Oh no no no I can't move help someone please—_

Blaine squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of zipper being pulled down.

Then all hell broke loose.

"NO!" Kurt screamed, and then the pipe around his chest _flew_ off, almost clipping Sebastian's head as it soared across the room.

"Damn…" Sebastian stared at the bent and twisted metal that finally landed thirty feet away.

Blaine couldn't take his eyes off of Kurt.

Blue. His eyes were _completely_ blue and glowed. Kurt's fists were clenched and his body shook. Oh Jesus this was so not good.

* * *

><p>Kurt had never really understood what they meant when people talked about "tunnel vision" until he saw Blaine on his knees in front of his torturer.<p>

But that sight…Blaine's scared hazel eyes, how he couldn't move…

Everything else fell away.

Kurt's vision went blue.

_NO_

_NO_

Power surged through his body, shaking his bones and rushing out into the room in an unstoppable wave. He was free; he could move, though he didn't know quite where that pipe had gone. But Sebastian was in front of him and hastily backing away from Blaine, hands up in surrender. His face still held a triumphant grin, which was just unacceptable. Kurt fingers tingled and itched, and Kurt balled his hand into a fist. He glanced at Blaine, who looked even more scared than before.

_Blaine, no, it's just me, but I can't help this I can't_

That wasn't important. What was important was getting Blaine and Rachel away from Sebastian and his plans. He saw Jesse was long gone, probably teleported or something. Rachel had gotten Blaine to his feet, so Kurt focused on Sebastian.

"Don't ever come near him again." Kurt wondered briefly at his voice. It sounded deeper. Thicker.

"You ready to face yourself?" Sebastian smirked. "You belong with us, you know. With me. Not them."

It was hard to think with the rushing in his head. Kurt squeezed his eyes shut, pressing a hand to his forehead where a pounding headache began.

"This isn't your place," Sebastian said. "You don't belong here. Hear me, Kurtsie? You don't belong. And you never will."

"Shut up," Kurt whispered. God, but his head hurt. Someone was pounding a nail through his skull, and Kurt fell to his knees. "Stop it."

"Come with me, and I'll stop the pain."

God, that was tempting. But…

"Kurt!"

_Blaine?_

"Kurt, stand up!"

He tried, he really tried, but his legs didn't feel right, and he fell once, twice before he got to his feet. He couldn't see; who knew foggy vision actually meant "foggy" vision? Thick grey clouds rolled in front of his eyes. Sebastian laughed, high and evilly, and there was a shout and then Sebastian grabbed his arm.

Kurt barely thought before he brought up a fist and punched Sebastian in the nose. The arm disappeared, but he vaguely saw Sebastian fly across the room and crash into a pile of metal rods.

_What…_

The room fell silent. Kurt looked around, trying to see why, but the fog was getting thicker and his head pounded, and was that blood dripping out of his nose?

Kurt forced the pain back until his vision cleared enough to see Rachel next to Blaine, who was still collapsed on the floor and staring at Kurt with something a little like awe but a lot like _fear_ and Kurt couldn't under why because he was still _himself_ just _more._ The power rolled over and through him and Kurt stumbled from the sheer force of it.

A wall of air smacked into his chest and ground him into the ground, and Kurt cried out when he felt some of his ribs crack. Sebastian stood at the end of the warehouse, drenched in blood but still smiling, what the hell. His shoulder was lopsided. Kurt realized it was dislocated but that clearly meant nothing to the demon. The air pressed down harder and Kurt let out a whimper and coughed up flecks of blood.

"Kurt, come on!" Rachel's shrill voice cut through the haze of pain. The pressure let up somewhat, then he was being clumsily yanked to his feet. "You're more powerful than this, use it! Blaine, do something!"

God, his head hurt. Kurt tried to focus, tried to concentrate and control that weird power flowing around him but it just slid through his hands like water. He felt like screaming in frustration but he had to hold Sebastian off, had to protect Rachel and Blaine. Blaine, who was yelling something but it was so hard to hear and Sebastian laughed at his efforts, long and taunting and Kurt gritted his teeth and grabbed that damn power and caught it.

It rushed through his blood again and Kurt realized too late _oh shit oh shit too much_ but he managed to focus it enough to shoot at Sebastian's rapidly fading pearly white grin. Then Sebastian was _gone_ the fucker, Kurt wasn't done with him yet, how dare he vanish. The power left and Kurt pitched forward to his knees, head pounding and throbbing and his vision clouded over again and it hurt everywhere.

Blaine and Rachel were yelling at him and each other, but Kurt couldn't understand them. His ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton. His chest ached all over and he coughed, tasting blood. Then Kurt felt someone grab his hand and whisper that it was okay, that he'd be fine, but Kurt seriously doubted it with the way his head throbbed. A tall shadow stepped in front of him.

"Damn, dude, you really did a number on yourself, didn't you?"

The last things Kurt saw before he slipped into blissful gray were a pair of shadowy wings and a strange mohawk.

* * *

><p>Waking up came slowly.<p>

First, pain.

Everywhere.

His skin felt stretched too tight and he was sweating but so cold and all around Kurt felt too miserable to much more than let out a pained moan. A cool washcloth was laid on his forehead.

"Hey, baby."

Kurt couldn't resist a small smile. Blaine. He forced his eyes open, wincing at the bright light until Blaine's face swam into focus. He looked tired and drained, but grinned when he saw Kurt was awake. "Blaine," he croaked. Oh God, he even sounded awful. What the fuck had even happened?

"You've been out for a few hours," Blaine's soothing voice washed over him and Kurt shut his eyes again. It hurt too much to keep them open. "How do you feel?"

"Like shit," Kurt mumbled. He squeezed Blaine's hands, thankful for the familiarity of the gesture.

"You look like it too."

Kurt's eyes flew open at the strange voice. He tried to sit up, but his head suddenly exploded with pain and Blaine hastily forced him back down on the couch.

Someone smacked someone else. "Shut up, you brute!"

Rachel. Just the voice he needed when his brain felt like it was being ripped from his skull. He groaned again.

"Relax, Kurt, relax. We're at Rachel's and Finn's. And we sort of…picked up company in the warehouse."

This was too much information for just waking up. Kurt narrowed his eyes but turned his head to see Finn and Rachel together on a love seat. Sprawled on top of another chair, though, was a tall man in a tight white shirt and a short mohawk. And behind him—

"Why do you have wings?" Kurt couldn't look away from the black shadows coming out of the man's back. Blaine frowned but wiped his face off with the washcloth and glanced at the stranger. Rachel whispered to her boyfriend, but Kurt couldn't hear. He felt a spike of anger.

The man raised his eyebrows at Kurt's question. "Dude, you can see these?" He waved behind his back. When Kurt nodded slowly, the man looked impressed. "Damn, kid, you're just full of surprises."

It was all too confusing and Kurt barely remembered the warehouse past Sebastian showing up and Blaine on his knees. So many questions; and they all built up behind his skull, overwhelming him and screaming and Kurt brought up a hand and rubbed his forehead. "Christ," he muttered.

"It's a little overwhelming." The man smiled softly. "Ordinarily, I'd take away the pain, but I'd rather not mess with you right now."

"What?" Kurt tried to sit up again. With Blaine's help, he finally got upright. Finn was eying him weirdly, and Kurt snapped. "What, Finn? Why are you staring at me?"

Finn flushed at Kurt's harsh tone. "Nothin'. Just…your eyes are normal again." He paled when Blaine glared at him. "I-I mean—"

"Normal again?" Kurt stared at Blaine, then Puck. "What the hell is going on? Where's Sebastian?" His voice edged into hysteria and Blaine grabbed his hands, rubbing soothing circles on his knuckles. "Blaine?"

"Shh. We've been waiting for you to wake up so Puck can explain." Blaine said quietly. "Speaking of," his voice turned hard and he turned to glower at the winged man, "You want to start?"

The man held his hands up in surrender. "Chill, dude. I'm getting there." He stood up and walked over to Kurt, his wings rippling gently. "My name's Puck. I'm an angel."

Rachel's mouth fell open. "An…an angel? Angels are real?"

Puck smirked. "Hell yeah! First time in a couple thousand years we're allowed on board, though. It's been kind of awesome, actually. You know humans made like, games you can play on the TV? Totally cooler than heaven." Finn grinned at the mention of video games.

"While Puck may be an angel, we still need to know about Sebastian and Kurt." Rachel interjected. "Also, do I get to keep my magic? Because I really like being a Broadway star and I still need to hold a press conference and tell them I'm still alive and—"

"Rachel, shut up." Kurt interrupted, rubbing his forehead and ignoring how Rachel flushed in anger. Finn tried to calm her, but then she turned her loud voice on him, then Puck, and God, Kurt just wanted to go back to sleep.

Blaine had wrapped an arm around Kurt's waist during the bickering. "You can see his wings?" he asked.

"Kind of. More like…their shadows. They're wispy and smokey. And huge." Kurt couldn't take his eyes off of Puck's back. "You can't?"

Shaking his head, Blaine shrugged. "No. He just looks like a normal guy to me." He groaned. "Rachel and Puck aren't helping your headache, are they?" And Kurt's hesitant nod, Blaine stood up and separated the angel and witch. "Guys, stop. Focus. This is about Kurt." Once he was reasonable sure Rachel wasn't going to start yelling again, he reclaimed his place beside Kurt.

Rachel sniffed and flounced back to Finn. Puck just laughed at the whole situation, chuckling loudly.

"Damn, I love humans!" He winked at Kurt and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and adopting a serious expression. "Okay, so. Here's what's up. I can't tell you everything, otherwise the boss'll get mad." Puck ignored Blaine's protests. "Trust me, you don't want the boss mad. So. Kurt. What do you want to know?" He watched Kurt expectantly, eyes honest.

The truth. Well, a limited truth. But it would still be better than before. Kurt could barely think of where to start and his head still ached incessantly.

"What happened in the warehouse?" Kurt finally asked. When Puck didn't answer right away, Kurt felt nervous. "I remember bits of it. Sebastian was doing something to Blaine and I just got so angry. And everyone looked scared of…of me. Did something happen to my eyes?"

Puck laughed quietly. "Right for the jugular, huh?" Puck raised an eyebrow at Blaine, who remained silent. "Well, to answer your question about your eyes, yes. They turned completely blue. They faded pretty soon after I got you here, but you were drifting in and out of consciousness so Finn saw them too."

"My eyes?" Kurt repeated.

Puck rubbed his face tiredly. "How to explain this," he muttered. "Look, all I can tell you is that you can tap directly into magic without intermediaries like spells and plants and shit. Not angel magic or demon magic, but _magic_ magic. The only thing is, your body isn't used to it, hence the epic hangover and why you passed out after scaring the shit out of that pansy-ass demon." Kurt was fairly certain he was turning Blaine's hand blue, but Blaine didn't so much as squirm. "And this is important," Puck continued, "because your kind of magic is powerful enough to do almost anything."

Kurt let it sink in. So he was…magic. And Sebastian want s him because he's powerful. "And that's why Sebastian wants me?"

"Partly." Puck winced. "It's complicated."

Blaine snorted.

"Why me?" Kurt asked slowly.

"Oh Kurt," Puck sighed, looking pained. "It's always been you." He stopped, thinking. "I'm not sure how much you're allowed to know. Um. It was your mom."

"My mom?" Kurt's throat constricted.

"When she gave birth to you, we all knew. And, I don't know; she vanished after that. Changed her name and yours and left California. It was only recently we were able to track you down. She must have married your dad and settled down. Never thought I'd see the day," Puck grinned fondly. "I was sorry to hear of her passing."

Kurt just nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Today was just full of secrets and truths. Who knew his life would wind up like this. He smiled when Blaine tugged him closer, grateful for the comfort. "What…what was her real name?"

"Elizabeth Campbell. You were Michael."

"Campbell?" Blaine interrupted, his eyes wide. "Like, _the_ Campbells? The most famous hunting family in history; _those_ Campbells?"

Kurt's mind reeled. "I have family?" he asked slowly, looking from Puck to Blaine. "Grandparents? Aunts and uncles?"

Puck shook his head. "No. Short Stuff's right; the Campbell's used to be a very famous hunting family, but the lineage died out. You're actually the last one."

"Of course," Kurt said dully. He felt Blaine rub his back. God, he just wanted to sleep and forget this ever happened. Magic and demons and angels and famous mothers…

What was he going to do now?

Somehow, Puck seemed to read Kurt's thoughts. "Look, man," he sighed, rubbing a hand over his short hair, "I know this has got to suck. You didn't ask for any of this."

Kurt shook his head. He stared at the ground, willing something to make _sense_.

"I'm assigned to keep an eye on you," Puck continued. "An angel bodyguard. To keep you safe from that sleezeball demon so he can't use you."

That sounded nice, actually. Sebastian certainly wouldn't take to having Kurt slipping through his fingers well. Again. But Blaine narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"Why are angels getting involved in this?" Blaine tightened his grip on Kurt's hand. "Why now? It's been over two thousand years since you guys came down to earth, why are you suddenly interested in Kurt?"

Puck looked uncomfortable. "I can't tell you."

"No, you don't need to." Blaine's expression darkened in understanding. "It's so you guys can use him. Demons and angels; you both were trying to find Kurt so the other side couldn't. Like he's a weapon."

Rachel gasped dramatically, hand covering her mouth and eyes wide. Finn just looked confused. Kurt suddenly felt the urge to cry. _I'm just a normal man, what the hell. I'm not a weapon. I don't want to be._

"Anderson—"

"No!" Blaine shouted, standing up. "Kurt's been through enough, he doesn't need to get involved with your stupid war too!"

Puck rose too, and Kurt let out a whimper at the way his wings spread threateningly, though the effect was somewhat lost on Blaine. But Kurt felt the _power_ radiating from the angel, and it scared him. He had a feeling angels could be just as ruthless as demons. "Blaine…" he started quietly, but fell silent.

"Siding with the angels would be better then demons. We have God on our side." Puck began, eyes narrowing when Blaine scoffed. "We can protect him. And his friends." Kurt's heart plummeted. Puck had said the magic words, and he _knew_ he was being manipulated. And judging by the way Blaine flushed, he knew it as well. "The demons will go after everyone Kurt has ever talked to until he joins Sebastian. We can keep them safe." Puck glanced at Rachel and Finn, who held each other close with scared expressions. "You want to keep them safe, don't you?" This time, Puck looked directly at Kurt.

Unable to keep an expression of fury off of his face, Kurt glared. "I hate you," he spat, but tugged Blaine back down. "But I know a threat when I hear one." Puck looked a little embarrassed, but sat back on his chair. Kurt sighed to himself, trying to think of how to protect everyone he loved. God, this was so not what he signed up for.

"I want guarantees." Kurt stated. "I want Rachel and Finn to be safe." Rachel opened her mouth to protest but thankfully Finn kept her quiet. "All of my friends in New York, actually. Rob, Angie, Victoria, Lindsey, Sammi, Alex. I assume you know who they are?" Kurt's voice was hard. Puck simply nodded. Kurt caught Blaine's eye. "And Blaine's friends. Santana and Wes and David. Sam. Britt and Artie." Blaine relaxed slightly and he squeezed Kurt's hands in silent thanks. Now the hard part. "I want you to let me and Blaine go."

"No." Puck's answer was instantaneous.

"Blaine was right, earlier. I'm not just some tool for you to wield whenever you see fit. Blaine and I are doing good things. We're helping people. I want to keep doing that. Besides, I'm sure you know of a way to keep an eye on us." Puck glanced away and Kurt knew he was right. "I want freedom until you need me." Kurt stroked over Blaine's tense knuckles with his thumb. There was no way this situation was ideal, but maybe it could work for a little while. He just needed time. "Please, Puck. The angels aren't ready for me yet, are they?"

They couldn't be. Otherwise, Puck would have whisked him away as soon as he found him. It was a gamble, but maybe…

"No, we aren't ready yet." Puck sighed again. "God, you make things difficult." He eyed Kurt's outstretched hand. "Fine," he shook Kurt's hand with a groan. "Go save the world, Mulder." Puck winked and vanished.

Blaine shook his head and muttered something about angels being full of themselves.

Rachel kept her eyes narrowed at Kurt. "Kurt, what are you doing? This is—this is wrong, you shouldn't have to bargain your life!"

"Like you did your soul?" Kurt snapped, glaring at her. "What the hell were you thinking, Rachel? Witchcraft? With _Jesse_? I thought you were through with those kinds of underhanded and dirty tactics after last year!"

She flushed. "I don't expect you to understand anymore. You left. But I'm a star. I just needed to a chance to prove it." Her voice edged towards sulky and Kurt resisted the urge to slap her. He would have been fabulous on Broadway had anyone bothered to look past his face.

"I help people now. Something you should try once in a while." Kurt glared. "You're welcome, by the way. Blaine? I'm done." Kurt stood up and almost fell over when the room spun again. Finn caught him before he faceplanted.

"Woah, dude, careful," Finn said. Once Kurt was steady, Finn stood awkwardly. "Listen, man, I…" He bit his lip before apparently deciding something.

Kurt had about two seconds of warning before he was wrapped in a tight hug. He coughed under the pressure, but smiled and patted Finn's back. "Thanks for bringing Rachel back," Finn whispered.

"I had to."

"I'll talk to her. And Kurt?" Finn pulled back, and Kurt was shocked at the amount of fear in Finn's face. "Be careful, okay? I don't think I got everything," he gestured wildly, "but it sounds dangerous so just…be careful? And take care of him." The last sentence was directed to Blaine. "He's special, you know?"

Blaine nodded, smiling. "Yeah I know. I will."

"Cool." Finn sniffed and wiped his nose. "Go…go kill some bad guys, okay?"

"Okay." Kurt felt his heart tug when Finn moved away. They really were friends. There had been a lot of drama the year before, but it all worked out and they'd been like brothers. And Kurt was leaving again.

Rachel suddenly burst into tears and nearly knocked Kurt over when she launched into him. "Kurt, please don't leave, I miss you so much," she cried, hugging him tight. Kurt met Blaine's eyes over her shoulder and sighed. He missed her insanity too.

"I have to go, Rachel. But you'll be fine. You don't need magic to knock 'em dead, right?" He fought back tears and smiled at the crazy girl. Her eyes were still red-rimmed, and Kurt wiped away the tears. "Come on. Where's the Rachel Berry I remember? That one that takes no prisoners?"

That got a laugh. "I'm right here." She grinned and swatted his arm. Her expression quickly sobered. "Thank you, Kurt. And Blaine."

"Don't mention it." Blaine held out Kurt's jacket. "You ready?"

"Yeah." The room seemed stable enough, so Kurt slid his arms through the sleeves. Nothing spun and his headache was fading, so hopefully he'd be alright soon. He turned back to his friends for one last hug. "Be safe. And call me or Blaine if anything seems strange alright?" They both nodded. :I mean it. Anything."

"We got it, Kurt." Rachel smiled shakily. "Go save the world with your hot boyfriend."

Blaine seemed pleased by that description, smirking and laughing at Finn's vaguely insulted face. He guided Kurt out of the building to the car, not complaining when Kurt leaned heavily on his arm to avoid falling.

When they pulled away, Kurt watched Finn and Rachel stand in the doorway of the apartment complex until they turned a corner and her lost sight of them.

Kurt really hoped he handled that right.

"Bye," Kurt whispered.

* * *

><p><em>-Somewhere on 1-80-<em>

They haven't spoken since leaving New York two hours before. Blaine took the wheel this time and watched Kurt curl up in the passenger seat, shoes kicked off and knees drawn up.

It'd been a rough week.

Blaine just drove and tried to get lost in the feeling of the road, of miles passing by and the radio crooning an old song. Bruce sang about New York as Blaine wished he knew just what the fuck he was doing.

_Hey vibes man, hey jazz man play me your serenade  
>Any deeper blue and you're playin' in your grave<br>Save your notes, don't spend 'em on the blues boy, _

In between words, Blaine heard it. A quiet sniffle. He glanced at his boyfriend.

Kurt had a hand wiping at his eyes and the other wrapped around his legs as he looked out the window.

"Oh, Kurt," Blaine couldn't help but reach out. He could only touch Kurt's ankle but maybe that was enough. Taking his eyes off the road was dangerous, but maybe it was enough for Kurt to know he wasn't alone. After a few seconds, he felt a hand slip into his.

"Hey, sweetie."

"Hi." Kurt's voice was raw, and Blaine knew his eyes would be red and puffy. Once they stopped tonight, Blaine would probably be sent off to find some specific moisturizer (and in all honesty, he'll be sent back a few times because _that's not the not strength, Blaine, honestly_ but it might make Kurt smile and he missed that). "I, um. I'm sorry I'm such a mess right now." Kurt laughed weakly, but the way he gripped Blaine's hand betrayed him.

"Do you want to talk about it? Or I mean; I can put on the Beatles. I know you like to listen to them when you're upset." Blaine risked death and took his eyes off the road to see Kurt shoot him such a look of fondness and _love_ that he felt like squealing into a pillow like a teenage girl.

Kurt found his iPod and slipped the converter tape in. A few minutes later, a familiar tune drifted out of the speakers.

_There are places I'll remember  
>All my life, though some have changed<em>

Blaine nodded in approval. "I like this album," he said. "One of my favorites."

"I know." Kurt whispered. He was silent for a while. "It's just…so crazy. Everything."

"But it's nice to know the truth, right?"

Kurt shrugged. "I don't know. Yeah. I just…I miss my mom and dad." His voice choked up, but then words began tumbling out in a flood. "I wish they were here because I literally have no idea what I'm doing. And I'm so scared, because if I screw up now, people are going to get hurt. I definitely don't trust demons after Sebastian tried to break me but I don't trust the angels either because they don't see _me_, they see a weapon. Puck might be different; I don't know. But his boss scares me. I just don't understand any of this, and I scare me because what the fuck? Magic? And then there's you. And I hate that your parents hate me, but they have a good reason, obviously, and they love you." Blaine scoffed, but Kurt cut him off. "They do. They love you, and I just ripped you away from them."

Blaine glanced at Kurt again. "We're in this together, Kurt."

"Yeah. We are." Kurt nodded like he was trying to convince himself. "I can't handle something happening to you. But I'm too selfish to let you go." He ran his fingers through his hair, and _now_ Blaine was worried. "I just want everything to be ok."

Blaine didn't have an answer. He had a feeling they were in way over their heads with this whole angels and demons crap, but they were _together_. And that's what mattered. He rubbed Kurt's knee through his tight jeans, trying to send some comfort through the fabric. "I promise we can get through this. You're strong." Kurt shrugged but didn't speak. "And besides, when your eyes get all freaky I promise to be around to tell you when your shirt clashes with them." He laughed when Kurt let out an indignant noise and smacked his shoulder.

"Jerk."

"You love me." Blaine grinned at Kurt's exasperated smile. "No, Kurt, but seriously." He caught Kurt's eye. "I promise everything is going to be alright. All we can do is keep going, but it'll be alright."

Kurt smiled fondly. "One foot in front of the other?"

"One foot in front of the other."

* * *

><p><strong>Songs: <em>New York Serenade<em> by Bruce Springsteen and _In My Life_ by The Beatles**

**So...yes. I promise I vaguely know where I'm going with this. I'll try to wrap up soon. Maybe. The next update should be sooner than 2 months, I promise! I'm done finals next week and then FREEDOM!**

**Um if you recognized anything in this episode, it's not mine. It's either Supernatural or Glee.**

**Also that episode last night? Guys, Blaine crying does things to me. I can't handle it, oh my god. I just want them both to be happy forever.**

**I should be back to gore/scary stuff next time =]**

**Thanks for reading as always!**


	11. Moonlight

**A/N-**

**Hey guys! Look, a new chapter! I just want to thank everyone for being so patient, I truly appreciate the fact that people are still reading this even after my sporadic updates. But college is out for the summer, so I should have more time.**

**Something I forgot to mention last chapter (it was in the preview though)- I do have fanart now! So please check it out at s**nowfest on deviantart, just add /art/ Klaine-Wheel-In-The-Sky-Fic- 284897448 (take out the spaces) and tell rushout that it's fantastic and awesome and I adore it!****

****More stuff at the end, but in the meantime, enjoy!****

* * *

><p>-<em>Stonebrook, Virginia-<em>

This was not Brad Chan's night.

He chanced a quick look over his shoulder as his feet pounded the pavement, breathing heavily. The alley was too dark to see, but Brad didn't slow down. No way.

An empty can almost tripped him, and Brad's heart lurched at the sudden _clang_, but he managed to stay upright. Blood thudded in his ears and his chest hurt with every sharp breath. A sudden howl behind him froze him in place.

"Oh, dear God, please, no," Brad whispered. With wild eyes, he looked behind once, then took off. He dodged trashcans and garbage bags, blind to his path. He just had to keep moving.

Then the growls started. And the pants. Brad whimpered. It was right behind him, oh God. Brad found a reserve of energy and pushed harder, ignoring the screaming muscles in his calves and another howl as he turned another corner.

He faced a wall.

"Oh, fuck," Brad stared at the wall in disbelief. _No, no, no…_

The bricks were solid and offered no handholds. Brad helplessly pounded on the wall, as if it would shatter with sheer will. Both neighboring doors were locked. Brad screamed and cried, but no one came.

"HELP ME!" Brad tried not to cry, but tears leaked out anyway. Christ, he was too fucking young to die. He turned to face the alley when _it_ padded into view.

Brad shook his head and mouthed _no_, but only growls and a bark of triumph answered him. Brad screamed as his throat was torn out, the blood coating the ground. The alley fell quiet, with only the sound of ripping flesh and growls permeating the night air.

* * *

><p>After leaving New York, Kurt and Blaine fell back into their usual routine. Travelling across the country and hunting monsters.<p>

Neither mentioned Kurt's magic. Or angels. Or Sebastian.

Kurt began having nightmares again. Regular, non-demonic ones. Not that it made a difference when he woke up screaming and crying into Blaine's chest and then avoiding it in the morning. After a few weeks with no mention of a war or demons, though, they faded. They saw Puck occasionally. Just for a quick check up. Puck had started to drop hints that Kurt should start practicing with his powers, but Kurt ignored him. Blaine usually had to convince Puck to leave soon after.

By the time February rolled around, Kurt was a master at avoiding certain topics. Blaine knew it was going to bite them in the ass soon, but the second he mentioned talking to Santana or even the damn Roadhouse, Kurt clammed up and refused to talk until Blaine apologized.

They _needed_ allies. Whether Kurt liked it or not, they could not avoid angels and demons by themselves. They needed back up. Like Santana. Or even Sue Sylvester. But Kurt was so damn stubborn that Blaine, more than once, considered just tying Kurt down and calling everyone against his wishes.

But this was Kurt's battle, not Blaine's, so he remained patient. Mostly.

"Santana texted me this morning."

Kurt hummed noncommittally from the passenger seat. He was reading the hunting journal.

Blaine sighed. "She's working a job in Virginia. This guy was found mutilated in the middle of a city last night. Looks like an animal attack." No answer. "I might have told her we'd head over to give her some back up."

"No."

"Kurt—"

"No!" Kurt snapped the journal shut and glared. "We can't get anyone else involved with this."

Blaine gripped the steering wheel. Always the same arguments, over and over. "You're being—God, Kurt. We can't do this by ourselves!"

But Kurt just shook his head. "No. I can't put anyone else in danger! It's bad enough that _you're_ here, why the fuck would I let more people near me when I could kill them inside of a minute?" His eyes widened and he clamped his mouth shut.

Clearly, that wasn't meant to slip out. And the phrasing was…worrisome. But that was for another time. Right now, he needed Kurt to let down a few walls. Blaine laughed quietly. "Christ, Kurt, you can be so stupid sometimes."

Kurt pressed his lips into a thin line and ignored Blaine for the passing Pennsylvania countryside.

He had to approach this right. "Kurt…they're our friends. They should be allowed to help us." No response. Blaine took in the tensed shoulders and set expression. "Look, can we tell Santana? She's my best friend; I don't like lying to her." Kurt sighed. It was a reaction, though. "She'll kill us if she finds out later, anyway." Blaine smiled when Kurt chuckled. "I promise you. We want Santana on our side."

Kurt glared again, but rolled his eyes. "Fine. We can talk to her. But we give her a chance to walk away."

"Deal." Blaine grinned at Kurt until he was forced to pay attention to the road. He flipped on thw radio and smiled slightly at the weird coincidence.

_I see the bad moon arisin'  
>I see trouble on the way<br>I see earthquakes and lightnin'  
>I see bad times today<em>

"Why is Santana looking into this if it's just an animal attack?" Kurt asked.

"Glove compartment. There's a file." Blaine waited for Kurt to get it out before continuing. "It's the third attack in two months. The police think it's an animal, but there's no reason for a wolf or a bear to be in the middle of a city without anyone seeing. Also, we checked the lunar calendar."

Kurt sucked in a sharp breath when he saw their conclusions. "The attacks happened on full moons?" He glanced up.

"Yeah." Blaine nodded. "There's two more nights left in this cycle, so we have to work fast. And three sets of eyes are better than one." Blaine watched Kurt's brows furrow as he read. "I'd brush up on your werewolf lore."

Groaning softly, Kurt pulled out the journal. "I still cannot believe this is my life," he mumbled. "_Werewolves._"

_Well, don't go around tonight  
>Well, it's bound to take your life<br>There's a bad moon on the rise_

* * *

><p>-<em>Stonebrook, Virginia-<em>

"Who did yous say you were again?" Deputy Alex Chapman narrowed his eyes at the strange men in his crime scene. The alley gave him the creeps. Twenty years on the force; and he'd never seen such a brutal attack. Or had the feds jump on a case this fast.

The shorter one stood over his partner, all solemn-like. "Park rangers, sir," he said with a short nod. "I'm Ranger Royal, this is Ranger Walker." The one with the really tight pants and tall hair raised an eyebrow at him before turning back to the wide pool of blood. He had nice boots on, Alex noticed. Too nice for the woods outside town. Christ, they let anyone into the government these days. No wonder bin Laden was kicking their asses.

"Uh huh." Alex eyed them suspiciously. But the badges the rangers had flashed earlier looked legitimate. And honestly, he wanted no part of this case. It looked dangerous. Maybe mobsters had come down his little Virginia town to scare someone. Hell no, he wasn't messing with mobsters. He had grandkids.

The rangers combed the crime scene thoroughly, taking notes and conversing quietly. Alex watched them in silence, musing about the poor kid. Some jogger had called it in that morning. He was hysterical, kept talking about how much blood there was. Alex shivered in the afternoon breeze. The other two attacks hadn't been nearly this messy. He hoped these clowns could catch whatever the hell was loose soon. Maybe it was a dog.

"Deputy? Sir?" The curly one flagged him over. "I just had a few questions about—"

"Officer!"

Alex and Royal looked up to see a smoking hot woman wave at them from her car. Christ Almighty, but some Latinas were gorgeous. Alex open stared at her deep black hair and mile-long legs. And those _heels._ The woman sent him a sultry smile as she slinked up to him. The ranger cursed under his breath, but Alex ignored him. Sure he had a wife and two kids, but there was no harm in looking. And the dress was tight and short with a low neckline, so she clearly had no issues with gawkers.

"Hi, I'm Maria Estanza." The woman batted her eye lashes and Alex just blinked before remembering to shake her offered hand. "I'm a reporter with _Weird World News Weekly_, and I was wondering if you had a few minutes to talk about the body found here earlier?"

Alex drew himself up and puffed out his chest. "'Course, miss, I'd be glad to. Freedom of the press and all." Curly Hair rolled his eyes and Tight Pants snickered, but Alex ignored them. Maria just laughed and guided him a few feet away. "What 'cha wanna know?"

Maria turned into all business, though her voice stayed flirty. "Who was the victim?"

"Brad Chan. Twenty-nine years old. He worked as an accountant over on Locust with the Durham firm." Alex silently preened. He hadn't even needed his notebook.

The woman nodded as she scribbled something down on her pad. "What was the cause of death?"

Alex nodded towards the bloodstain where the two rangers still stood. "Massive blood loss. No idea what do it though; coroner thinks some kind of animal. But I've never heard of a wolf this far into the city, so it's probably a rabid dog or something."

Little noises of agreement slipped out as Maria wrote. When she looked up, she smiled. "Thank you, sir, you been so helpful," she purred. "But…" Maria bit her deep red lips and pouted slightly. "I really need an extra detail to really give my story the _wow!_ Factor, you know? Something to…make me stand out." She ran a finger up his chest until she tapped his badge. Alex swallowed, mouth suddenly dry as a bone. "And I bet you are just the man to help out a poor, struggling little Puerto Rican girl, right?" Her wide brown eyes blinked innocently.

Oh, he was going to get in so much trouble. Alex licked his lips nervously. "W-well, there is one thing we've been keeping out of the papers."

Maria gave a gasp of delight and pressed closer.

"I'm not really supposed to tell, but you'll keep my name out of the papers, right?" Alex couldn't believe what he was doing. But there was _cleavage right in his face oh God_. How could he resist?

"Of course."

"None of the bodies had hearts." Alex breathed. Maria stiffened and looked at him with a shocked face before her expression morphed back into a flirty temptress. It was so fast, Alex hardly saw. But then she pulled away and snapped her notebook shut.

"Thanks for the help, Watson." She said abruptly before walking back to her car. It was a sleek machine, as red as her dress and looked fast to boot. Must be some reporter. "Bye, Tweedledees!"

She twiddled her fingers at the rangers and slipped into her car, laughing as the shorter one yelled back "RANGERS!" Alex walked up just as he muttered some vague threats. "Swear to God, she's gonna regret that…"

"Still in public, partner," the other said breezily before smiling at Alex. "I think we're done here. Thank you for all the help, and please call us if you learn anything new about this case." He handed Alex a crisp business card. "We'll be touch."

As the strange men walked away, Alex glanced down at the card. _Ranger Fred Walker_. He lifted an eyebrow. Weird folk; men from the woods.

And was that Mustang standard issue?

* * *

><p>"Jeez, Santana, what part of 'subtle' was hard for you to understand?" Blaine snapped the second she opened the motel door. He brushed by her, rolling his eyes and dumping his bag on one of the beds.<p>

Santana smirked and stepped aside for Kurt. "He always this crabby?"

"Only when dealing with you." Kurt smiled and dropped his bag next to the door before wrapping Santana in a hug. "Good to see you again," he said into her shoulder.

She blinked, but patted his back awkwardly. "You getting soft on me, Hummel?"

Kurt laughed and pushed her away. Blaine had collapsed face down on one of the beds. He groaned happily when Kurt sat next to him and rubbed his back.

"Okay, there were developments here, and you didn't call me," Santana interrupted, eyebrow raised. She jumped on Blaine's bed and poked his side viciously. "Talk to me, hobbit!"

Blaine blindly grabbed for a pillow and swatted her. Santana dodged the pillow and grabbed her own, whacking Blaine's back. "Bring it, dwarf."

"Abuse! Kurt, help!" Blaine yelled, swinging his pillow. She laughed and dodged the hit. Memories of pillow fights over the years crossed his mind, and Blaine chased her with a huge grin. God knew there was precious little to smile about lately.

Ignoring them, Kurt got the laptop set up on the room's lone table. "I am Switzerland," he called to them, but Blaine saw that fond look.

Blaine pouted, but Santana slapped him in the face with her pillow and a grin. _Oh, it was on._ She saw his face and bolted, but he followed, readying his attack. She shrieked when he caught her around her waist and threw her on the bed, but she was up and laughing at him a few seconds later.

Santana suddenly turned around and tackled Blaine, crashing to the floor. Blaine let out a surprised yelp as he found himself with an armful of Latina. She pinned both arms next to his head and straddled his waist with a triumphant grin. Blaine tried to throw her off, but her sharp nails dug into his wrists painfully and he fell back with a groan.

"Wow, Blaine, that was pathetic," Kurt raised an eyebrow as he looked at them on the floor. "Took her what, five minutes?" He snickered.

"Three and a half," Santana laughed, but made no move to get up.

Blaine glared from the floor. "Worst boyfriend ever," he sulked. Kurt just smiled, turning back to the laptop.

Santana rolled off of him, stretching out next to Blaine. "So…boyfriends?" she asked with a knowing smirk. Blaine groaned and covered his face, but couldn't hide his growing grin.

_ Boyfriends._ Sweet hell, he still felt like giggling into his pillow anytime someone mentioned that fact that he, Blaine Anderson, was dating Kurt Hummel. Unconventionally, yes, but they still kissed and fucked and made love. A few less official dates than in normal relationships, but hunting ghosts tended to bring people together more than dinner and a movie anyway.

"Hummel! How long?" Santana yelled.

"Two months, one week, and three days." Kurt answered automatically. Then blushed. "I-I mean, about two months? Oh god," he dropped his head onto the table, blushing furiously.

Blaine pulled himself up and walked over to Kurt, sliding his arms around Kurt and giving him an obnoxiously big kiss on the cheek. He ignored Santana's gag. "Glad I'm not the only one keeping track," he whispered. Kurt was still red, but smiled back.

"Ugh, lovebirds. Gross." Santana wrinkled her face. She stood up and threw the scattered pillows back to the beds. "Anyway, come on. You guys owe me some explanations before we tackled this case. Why haven't I seen you in forever?"

Blaine glanced at Kurt, who paled. "I'm going to, um," Kurt suddenly stood up and closed the laptop, tucking it under his arm. "I'm going to go out for a few hours. To that coffee shop we saw earlier. The one on Briar?" Blaine just nodded, and Kurt smiled weakly. "I'll text you when I'm on my way back." He gave Blaine a quick peck and left, shutting the door behind him.

Santana cocked an eyebrow expectantly at Blaine. "Blaine? What's going on?"

How to explain this? Blaine sighed in the suddenly quiet room. He sat in the chair Kurt just vacated and rubbed his face, trying to figure out the best place to start. Thankfully, Santana seemed to sense his tension and stopped pushing. Instead, she pulled around the second chair and positioned it in front of Blaine, straddling the seat and resting her chin on her hands on the top of the chair's back. After a few minutes, Blaine spoke.

"Kurt's…special." Blaine said slowly.

"Well you're shagging him regularly; I'd expect he would be—"

"Shut up! Not what I meant!" Blaine cut in, blushing. "Well, I mean, yeah, he's special like that too, but—"

Santana kicked his chair leg. "Get to the point, Romeo." Santana smirked, but Blaine heard the nerves in her voice. She knew this was serious.

"Stop interrupting me, then!" Blaine glared. He ran his fingers through his hair. Kurt was trying to get him to stop, something about frizz, but it was a nervous habit. "He…he's magic."

Santana's eyebrows could have disappeared into her hair. "Magic?"

"Like…" Blaine waved his hands. "_magic._ I don't completely understand it; trying to get him to talk about it like pulling teeth, and Puck is fucking useless and won't talk to me at all." Blaine chanced a look at Santana. She stared at him like he was crazy, but she hadn't run away so Blaine counted that as a plus. "A lot of people are after him." Blaine looked at his feet and dropped his voice. "A demon named Sebastian, who's a real piece of work, by the way. All demons, actually. Vampires. Angels."

"Angels?" Santana repeated looking shaken. "Blaine, angels aren't real."

Blaine laughed hollowly. "They haven't been seen in a couple thousand years, but that doesn't mean they aren't real. Plus, try saying that when Puck appears on top of you at three am…" Blaine added darkly. God, that had been a memorable night. He hadn't been clothed and Puck still couldn't look Blaine in the face without laughing. He paused. "There's a war coming. And Kurt's caught in the middle of it."

Santana shook her head. "Blaine, this is insane. There's no way. What the hell have you been smoking these past couple months?"

Blaine looked her in the eye and Santana trailed off. "I think I should start from the beginning. It's a long story." He said. Santana swallowed nervously.

* * *

><p>The coffee shop was small, but Kurt found an empty table near the back once he got his drink. The décor was calming, and Kurt breathed in the smell of coffee as he set up the laptop. He sighed into his hands as the computer started up.<p>

He _liked_ Santana; he did, he just couldn't sit there and tell her about the last few months. Kurt wasn't sure what he was more afraid of: the fear or the pity. No, letting Blaine handle the matter was the best course of action.

Kurt opened a browser and paused in the search bar. Blaine had said Santana thought the attacks might be by a werewolf, so he might as well get started on learning about them. However, typing "werewolves" into Google returned over two million hits. Kurt groaned softly. _Fuck._

Fifteen minutes later, he had found a semi-reputable site and was reading about the effects of the lunar cycle when he looked up to see Puck across the table. Kurt jumped back with a yelp.

"Jesus _fuck_, Noah, what the hell?" Kurt snapped, trying to calm his pounding heart. Puck raised an eyebrow.

"It's Puck."

"It's 'asshole-who-sneaks-up-on-people,' that's what it is," Kurt glared. He took a sip of his cooling coffee to mask his shock. After a month and a half, he thought he'd gotten used to Puck randomly showing up. No such luck. "What are you doing here anyway?" Kurt snapped. Like he didn't already know.

Puck shrugged nonchalantly, but leaned forward and lowered his voice. No one was paying attention to them, but Kurt saw Puck's leg bouncing nervously under the table. "Look, Hummel—"

"I'm not practicing." Kurt interrupted. When was Puck going to _get_ it; he didn't want these powers, he just wanted to be _normal_. Ignoring that fact he could Hulk out at any moment was his choice, not Puck's.

"Fuck, Hummel!" Puck swore angrily. "I—_we—_need you to. I can't guard you all the time and you need to be able to protect yourself."

Kurt watched Puck's face. Anger was there, yes, but so was fear. Like Puck was scared for him. Then he remembered what Puck was.

"You mean you need me ready. The great weapon, right? What use is it if it doesn't even know its own powers?" Kurt said bitterly. That's all he'd ever be to angels. Just another weapon in the war against hell.

Puck rubbed at his mohawk. "Christ, Kurt. You make things so difficult." He huffed when Kurt ignored him. Without warning, Puck slammed the laptop closed, brushing off Kurt's angry protests. "Why can't you believe that I have your best interests at heart?"

"Because no one but Blaine ever does." Kurt snapped. He stood up and began grabbing his things. "I'm not using my powers. Ever." Kurt wrapped the scarf around his neck and stuffed the laptop in his bag. Just as he began walking away, Puck grabbed his arm.

"Please just try. Just little things." Puck's voice was calm, shocking Kurt into silence. It was usually angry or desperate. "Now that your body knows what you can do, it'll be easier to access the magic. And easier to overdose." Kurt's blood ran cold. Puck smiled sadly. "I'm sorry this happened to you. Also, what you're hunting?" Puck gestured at Kurt's laptop bag. "Not a werewolf. But you're close."

Kurt blinked and Puck was gone. "Fucking angels," he muttered. He grabbed another cup of coffee and ordered two more for Blaine and Santana. Not werewolves? Blaine had seemed pretty certain earlier, though. Once the order was made, Kurt put the cups in a tray and carefully carried the coffee to the door. He had a feeling it'd be a long night.

* * *

><p>Several minutes later, Kurt opened the motel door to a somber scene. Santana leaned against the bed's headboard, chewing a fingernail and reading an old book, while Blaine used her laptop. Neither spoke when Kurt walked in, though Blaine stood up and wrapped him in a hug.<p>

"I brought coffee." Kurt held out a tray with three cups in it. He didn't look at Santana. Spilling secrets never came easily to him and asking for help was definitely difficult. He trusted Blaine, though. If Blaine thought telling people he was a freak was the best course of action…well. Kurt had been called worse before.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Blaine shoot a look at Santana. Kurt frowned, but handed Blaine his medium drip.

"Hey, Harry Potter," Santana called out, smirking when Kurt jumped. "Bring me my coffee, wizard boy!"

Despite himself, Kurt laughed. Stupid. Why should he be so nervous around Santana? She knew plenty about being a freak herself. He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, but handed over the other mocha. She'd mentioned it once, and besides, everyone liked chocolate.

"What, you're just handing it to me? I expected some flying, maybe even fireworks," Santana smirked as she sipped the drink. "Shit, this is delicious,"

"Not quite that advanced, Satan." Kurt sat next to her. "Blaine filled you in?" He asked quietly.

"As best I could." Blaine watched Kurt twist his hands in his lap.

Santana gently shoved his shoulder. "Yep. Don't look so terrified, Hummel. I gots your back." The Lopez attitude was in full force. "I'm ready to go all Brooklyn on their asses."

"On whose asses?"

"Everyone's." She laughed. "Seriously, Kurt." Her voice softened. "It's a little much to wrap my head around, but you're cool and you make my boy happy. Also I've always had a problem with authority, so a little rebellion is right up my alley." Santana winked.

"Thanks, Santana," Kurt felt his throat choke up, but Santana hated affection, so he cleared it quickly. "Um, why don't we talk about Brad Chan and the other attacks? There's only about three hours until nightfall." Kurt looked at both of them. "What did you guys come up with?"

Blaine looked at Santana, who just waved her hand, gesturing for him to take the lead. "Well," Blaine started, "The MO looks like a werewolf, especially with the murders matching up to the lunar cycle." Kurt's eyes flickered over to Santana. Isn't a werewolf what almost killed Brittany? But Santana's expression was neutral. "Also, the deputy told Santana that the bodies were all missing their heart, which is very typical of werewolves."

"The only problem," Santana cut in, "is we have almost no way to track who the wolf is when it's in human form. And we don't know how many there could be because it only takes one bite to turn people." She flopped back on the bed with a sigh.

"Umm…" Kurt bit his lip. Blaine was going to be pissed. He knew how his boyfriend felt about Puck. But this was important. "Puck showed up at the coffee place." Kurt finally said. "He said it's not a werewolf. But it's similar to one."

Blaine exchanged glances with Santana. "I got nothing. You?"

Santana frowned. "It could be a Shifter. They're pretty similar; the only difference is Shifters aren't bound by the moon, and they tend to turn into regular dogs rather than full-blown wolves." She leaned back and sighed. "It could be a lycan too. Those are similar to Shifters, but turn into wolves. They gain control over shifting with practice. Lycans are extremely rare, though, no one's seen one in a couple hundred years."

"How do you know so much about werewolves?" Kurt asked wonderingly.

When Santana dropped her gaze, he wished he'd kept quiet. "I did a lot of research after Britt." She said softly.

They fell into silence.

"Wait." Kurt perked up. "I have an idea on how to track down these creatures."

Blaine raised an eyebrow and glanced at Santana.

She shrugged. "Spit it out, China. We don't got all day."

* * *

><p>It was an hour before sundown when Blaine parked outside of a simple house in a quiet neighborhood. The sun had turned the sky a deep red.<p>

"God, it all looks so ordinary," Kurt muttered from his side. A few cars were parked in the driveways and some houses had toys strewn across the lawn. "Do think we could be wrong?" Kurt looked at Blaine anxiously.

Blaine shrugged. "It's a solid theory." Actually, Kurt's idea was pretty brilliant. Shifters, lycans, and werewolves, especially newly made ones, almost always change during the full moon. Kurt figured that if they could check out everyone who's been bitten by an unidentified animal or dog, there was a good chance at least one of them would have been bitten by the monster. If they could figure out who was turned, they might be able to back trace to the original creature as well as learn exactly what type of werewolf they were dealing with.

As it so happened, there were only three reported bites to the hospital and Animal Control in the last month. With some help from Sam, Santana was able to hack into the records and get addresses. She would take Renée Esmond on the other side of town, while Blaine and Kurt checked out Paul Brinn and Joe Hart.

Paul, it turned out, was actually bitten by his friend's dog, but didn't want to report it because the dog already had a record. Another attack; and it would be put down. So now they sat outside Joe's house.

"What if we're right, though?" Kurt sounded sad. Blaine twisted to look at him. "We walk in there and tell him he's a monster. His whole life is going to end and it's not even his fault." He twisted his hands in his lap. "There's no cure, is there?"

Blaine shook his head. "No," he admitted. In all likelihood, they'd probably have to kill Joe Hart if he was no longer human. Werewolves could not be trusted with so many instincts pointing to killing innocent people. He hoped Kurt would understand.

There were times he hated being a hunter.

"Come on," Blaine said gruffly. "Let's check him out first before jumping to conclusions."

Kurt nodded silently, but was still nervous as he followed Blaine to the door. "We still Animal Control?"

"Yeah, here to check out a string of bites and to figure out if it's the same animal or not." Blaine glanced at Kurt. "I can take lead if you want." Kurt nodded gratefully, and Blaine knocked on the door.

A muffled curse and a bang came through the closed door. Kurt raised his eyebrow at Blaine. A few seconds later, a tall young man with impressive dreads opened the door.

"Hi!" He grinned brightly, slightly out of breath. He wore a tank top and baggy jeans, showing off many tattoos and a large white bandage on his left forearm. Blaine caught sight of the gold cross around his neck and swallowed. Kurt stiffened next to him. "I'm sorry, I was just cooking and meditating and you guys startled me. What's up?"

Blaine blinked. "I think whatever you're cooking is burning," he said, nose twitching from the scent of smoke.

Joe's eyes widened. "Oh shit! I'll be right back! Don't move!" he smiled apologetically and ran back into the house, leaving the door open. Kurt snorted.

"Oh my god, he's a hippie."

"What?" Blaine nudged him. "He is not. Don't be mean."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Sniff. Under the smoke? He's burning incense somewhere. Not to mention his house looks like something out of the 70s. Wall hangings, Blaine. And lava lamps."

Now that Kurt mentioned it, he could see where Kurt was getting his conclusions from. The house was stuffed with knickknacks, wall hangings, and even a few hand stitched Bible verses. They looked like the friendly ones though. And if he poked his head in to see the living room, there were indeed two lava lamps as well as a shaggy carpet he recognized from his parent's old photo albums.

"You guys can come in! Shut the door behind you!" Joe called from the kitchen. With a look, Kurt stepped forward, grimacing at the overpowering incense smell. Thank god it wasn't patchouli, though, because Blaine hated that one. Blaine closed the door, before getting a better look at the house.

Even though it was a mess, Blaine liked it. It was like an organized chaos. Kurt was probably crying on the inside, though. Blaine grinned at him and walked through the living room towards Joe's voice, stopping in the doorway of a small kitchen. Joe was scraping out a pan that used to hold what was probably chili, but had turned black and solidified. Kurt whimpered behind him at the state of the kitchen. But Joe seemed to give up.

"Ah, I'll get it later. Let's sit in the living room." Joe shrugged and gestured towards the room behind them. Once everyone was seated on the couch and the armchair, Joe studied them. "So who are you guys, and what can I help you with? I wasn't expecting company today, but if God was kind enough to send you, I won't complain." He smiled, and Blaine noticed the small nose ring glint in the light. Joe absently scratched his bandage while he waited for Blaine and Kurt to answer.

"Right." Blaine cleared his throat. "Um, we're with Animal Control. I'm Josh, and this is Ben. We wanted to ask you a few questions about the complaint you lodged with us a few days ago?"

Joe nodded. "About this?" He held up his arm. "Yeah, sure, ask away. I was worried you guys wouldn't do anything; I hate the thought of some little kid getting attacked like I did."

"Well, that's why we're here." Kurt smiled as Blaine got out a notebook. "We just have a few questions about your attack on Wednesday night, if you don't mind, and then we'll be out of your hair."

"Okay." Joe shrugged. He sat in the armchair, still scratching at the bandage. "What did you want to know?"

"Can you tell us about the attack?"

Joe shrugged. "Well, it was dark. I was walking home from a friend's, and we were kind of having a good time, you know? I wasn't completely sober." He grinned sheepishly.

Blaine smiled encouragingly. "That's fine; just tell us what you remember."

"I don't really remember much." Joe scratched at his arm. "This big…dog thing knocked me down. It was weird, though. It bit my arm and then ran. I was bleeding a lot, so I dragged myself to the hospital, then called you guys." Joe grimaced and pressed on the bite. "Hurts, still."

Kurt nudged Blaine's leg. "Yeah," Blaine muttered. Something was definitely off. "The dog bit you once and then ran off?" That couldn't be normal dog behavior.

"Yeah," Joe nodded and then winced. The area around the bandage was red from the constant scratches.

"What did the dog look like?" Kurt cut in.

Joe frowned and looked up. "Well, it was dark, like I said. I couldn't see much. It was huge though. A lot bigger than most dogs I've ever seen."

_Probably not a Shifter then._ "Would you say it was closer in size to a wolf or coyote?" Blaine asked.

"Definitely." Joe said confidently. "I didn't think wolves usually come into cities, though."

"They don't." Blaine sighed. Blaine watched Joe rub at the bandage again. "Can we see the wound, sir?" Blaine kept his face clear when Kurt frowned at him, but Joe was already nodding.

"Sure, why not. Itches like hell." Joe peeled back the gauze, revealing a large semi-circle of pierces. He twisted his arm so Blaine could see how it wrapped completely around Joe's forearm. "It wasn't this red earlier," Joe said nervously. His breath quickened, and Blaine felt for his gun. Still in his pocket, thank God. He'd switched all the bullets for silver ones earlier as well.

"Just a few more questions, sir, then you can take all the Tylenol you want and pass out." Blaine said soothingly. Kurt looked apprehensive, but went with it. "How have you been feeling the last few days?"

"Um, alright, I guess." Joe's eyes moved from Blaine to Kurt nervously. "I feel fine during the day, but at night I get a fever and the chills and stuff." He chuckled. "I must get delirious too. This morning, I woke up in my bathtub stark naked with the shower running. Weird, huh?"

Blaine nodded faintly. "Yeah, weird," he agreed. Blaine stood up. "Do you have a bathroom I could use?" He could practically see Kurt's _What the fuck, don't leave me alone here!_ expression, but ignored it. He had an idea.

"Oh, sure, it's around the corner, first door on the left." Joe pointed in the direction of the bathroom.

"I'll be right back." With an easy smile, Blaine left the room. Instead of heading towards the bathroom, he ducked up the stairs. The stairwell opened into a hallway, Blaine checked the first few doors, finding a linen closet, a guest bedroom, and another bathroom. He could hear the faint murmur of voices from the living room, so Blaine quickly moved to the master bedroom.

It was a mess. Clothes were strewn all over the floor and the bed was torn apart. Blaine picked up one of the pillows by his feet. The case hung in tatters. "Fuck," he muttered. On the dresser was a bag of weed and a half-smoked joint. "Medicating yourself, Joe?" Blaine picked up the joint and inspected it before putting it back. The drugs made sense. That wound looked huge and must hurt, so why not take the edge off? Spying the closet, Blaine strode over and opened the door, revealing more clothes piles. There was a hamper, so he checked inside, nose wrinkling at a familiar smell. Spying the source, Blaine sighed. In the hamper was a shirt with dried blood smeared on the front. Blaine swore softly under his breath and replaced the garment. Too much time had gone by. He snuck back downstairs and into the bathroom. Hurriedly, he ran the faucet and flushed the toilet, opening the door to find Kurt standing outside and looking annoyed.

"What the hell took you so long?" Kurt hissed. "I was running out of things to say. I think he's suspicious."

Blaine looked over to see Joe watching them from his chair. The bandage was still undone.

"He's definitely a werewolf. Or a lycan. I found bloodstained clothes in his room." Blaine muttered, keeping his voice low. "We have to stick with him tonight."

"How? We can't just tell him 'Oh, we think you're going to turn into a wolf tonight, so can we pretty please hang out?'" Kurt ran his fingers through his hair. "He'll never go for that. He'll call us demons and cast us out with the power of God!"

"No," Blaine groaned inwardly. Shit, this was not how he needed this to go. Then he frowned. Joe moaned in pain from the living room. "What the…?" Blaine brushed past Kurt to see Joe cradling his arm to his chest. "Joe? What's happening?"

Joe just groaned in reply. "H-hurts," he gritted out. Blaine crouched next to him, pulling out his arm so he could see. Kurt waited behind Blaine, hand on his stashed gun and a grim look on his face.

"Let me see," Blaine said firmly, finally forcing Joe's arm outstretched. He heard Kurt gasp behind him.

The wound flared an angry red, but that wasn't all. Dark, black veins stretched from the bite and twisted into the skin, and the muscle twitched and spasmed under Blaine's grip. "Kurt, how long until sunset?" Blaine asked slowly.

"Um…" Kurt swallowed. "About five minutes."

Joe's eyes were wild. "What the fuck is happening to me?" he cried, wrenching his arm back from Blaine's grasp.

Blaine tried to think. The truth might work here. Hopefully he was open-minded enough to listen to them before trying to throw him and Kurt out for blasphemy. The Bible didn't talk kindly on magic or monsters.

"We think you might be infected." Blaine finally said. At Joe's blank look, he continued. "What bit you wasn't a dog. It was either a lycan or a werewolf; we're not completely sure which."

"Either way, you're going to change tonight when the sun goes down," Kurt said. "We need to get you somewhere safe."

Joe stared at them. "Werewolves aren't real." He said numbly. Joe looked like he was in shock.

Blaine shot Kurt a look and rose to his feet, Kurt following. "Sir, I'm very sorry but—"

Joe suddenly let out a cry of pain and collapsed, shaking. "Shit," Blaine muttered. "Kurt, help me, we have to get him locked up before he hurts anyone," Blaine grabbed Joe under the elbows and dragged him towards the laundry room through the kitchen.

"Like us?" Kurt said sarcastically, but he helped Blaine with Joe. He murmured consolations to Joe as the man shook and cried. Kurt nudged Blaine. "His arm…"

Under his hand, the wound had grown hairy. Joe's eyes nearly bugged out and his muscles twitched violently, making it hard for Blaine to drag him. He swore when Joe's hand swung out and hit his face, causing him to let go. The man twisted out of Kurt's grip and scrambled away, breathing heavily.

Joe whimpered and clutched his head with his rapidly changing hands. There were cracks and pops as bones lengthened and contorted, and his clothes tore as he changed into a large black wolf. Blaine stared in awe, not liking the hungry glint in the wolf's green eyes. Joe wasn't in control.

"Oh, fuck," Blaine breathed, pulling out his gun. From the corner of his eye, he saw Kurt do the same.

The wolf huddled close to himself, panting. It looked up with hungry eyes, nostrils flaring as the wolf took in the new scents. A low growl rumbled from its throat. It took a step forward, muscles tense. Blaine swallowed hard and aimed the gun. Silver bullets through the heart killed werewolves, but Puck's warning to Kurt flashed through his head. Clearly, Joe wasn't a Shifter as he turned into a wolf and not a regular dog, so that left lycans. But he had no idea if lycans could be killed the same way as werewolves.

"Our first priority is to make sure he doesn't leave the house," Blaine muttered to Kurt. Surprisingly, Kurt seemed fairly calm, though he was paler than usual and his eyes were wide and glassy. "If it looks like he's going to escape, the silver bullets should slow him down. Try for the heart." Kurt nodded jerkily.

Joe's ear twitched. _Can he understand us?_ The wolf suddenly roared and launched itself at Blaine, knocking the gun out of his hands. They collapsed onto a table, which fell apart with a crack. Blaine cried out as his back erupted in pain. He was pinned by the wolf and fought it, using his arms to keep the huge snapping jaws away from his face. Claws tore at his shirt and sliced through his skin, and he pushed against the wolf's neck. The damn thing weighed a ton.

"Kurt!"

"HEY!"

The wolf stopped fighting Blaine and looked up at Kurt. Its nostrils flared and it stepped off of Blaine, watching Kurt carefully, growling low in its throat. Blaine scramble backwards, but he couldn't see his gun in the mess of wood and broken glass. The wolf crouched in front of Kurt, tail low and ears flat as Kurt glared.

"Don't move, Blaine." Kurt said, not taking his eyes off the wolf. He backed slowly into the kitchen, the wolf creeping forward as well. When Kurt stopped in front of the fridge, the wolf's ears perked up.

"Kurt?" Blaine slowly rolled over to stand up. He held a hand over the scratches in his shoulder.

"Shut up!" Kurt said sharply. He opened the fridge with one hand and glanced inside, relaxing slightly as he reached inside. The wolf stood up when it saw the hunk of bloody steak in Kurt's hand, tail wagging. Kurt continued moving backward, the wolf following hopefully. Kurt felt behind him and opened the door to the laundry room. "Is this going to work, Blaine?"

The room was small, with only a washer, dryer and an industrial sink inside. There wasn't another door. "Yeah," Blaine answered.

With a nod, Kurt tossed the steak inside the room and stepped to the side as the wolf bounded forward, slamming the door behind the trapped wolf. He flipped the lock and backed away, breathing heavily.

There were a few growls and thumps, but the door held, and soon the wolf gave up and went back to the steak. "Nice thinking, Kurt," Blaine grinned, smiling at Kurt's blush. As the adrenaline faded, Blaine let out a winced. The wolf left a few scratches on his shoulder that bled freely. He fell back into one of the kitchen chairs, pulling off his shirt. Kurt felt the wounds with pursed lips.

"I'll get the medical kit from the car. You sure that door will hold?" Kurt asked.

"Yeah," Blaine replied. The door thumped. "Well, pretty sure." Kurt looked unconvinced. "I'll be fine, just give me your gun just in case. I'm not sure where mine is." With a sigh, Kurt handed it over.

"Call Santana. She'll wanted to know we found one." Kurt ordered. He ran out of the kitchen.

Blaine groaned at another throb of pain. God, hunting was painful. He got out his cell phone, dialing Santana and watching the door for any signs that Joe was on his way to breaking down the door.

_"You find one too?"_ Santana greeted him with no preamble.

"Where are you, San?" Blaine winced at a particularly loud bang came from the laundry room.

_"On my way. I have some news for you."_ There was a muffled groan. "_Shit."_

"San?"

_"I'll be there in about fifteen minutes. Just make sure he doesn't go anywhere."_ She abruptly hung up. Blaine stared at his phone before pocketing it with a sigh. Kurt came in, carrying the extra gauze and disinfectant.

"She's coming. We're just going to have to wait." Blaine told Kurt. He fidgeted as they waited for Santana, with Kurt working quickly to patch Blaine up. Blaine hissed at the antiseptic, but couldn't resist a smile at Kurt's hands on his chest. Kurt caught his eye and blushed.

Santana arrived about ten minutes later, crashing through the house. "Yo, Hummel." She marched into the kitchen. Her braid was coming apart and she was covered in sweat. Blaine noticed her jeans turning dark on one leg and her harsh breathing.

"Shit, San, what happened?" Blaine gaped at her. A thump at the laundry room door made them all jump.

Santana ignored Blaine. "He in there?" She gestured at the locked door.

"Yeah." Kurt pushed her into a seat and rolled up the bloodied pants leg, revealing four large gashes on her calf. Kurt whistled softly as he grabbed the rest of the bandages.

"After I figured out Renée was still human, I decided to just go cruising for a while." Santana winced as Kurt cleaned out the wounds. "Shit, Hummel! Anyway, I saw these two guys by a playground, so I went to go check them out. They were arguing about something." She paused when Joe began pawing at the door and whining. "God, I wish he'd shut up. One of the guys saw me or smelled me or something and then they both turned into wolves." She snapped her fingers. "Like that. I don't think they expected me to have a gun, let alone silver bullets, so when I started firing, they got pretty nervous and ran off, but not before leaving me a present." Santana scowled at her newly wrapped leg. "Assholes. Hurts like bitch. I got one in the leg and the other in the shoulder, so hopefully they won't be hunting tonight."

Blaine frowned at her story. "Do you have the feeling we're dealing with something more than just a simple werewolf case?"

With a snort, Santana rolled her eyes. "Well, at least now we know we're looking at lycans. What are we doing with Fido, anyway?"

Joe began howling. Blaine saw Kurt turn away from the door and hug himself. This was the difficult part.

"We'll talk to him in the morning." Blaine sighed.

* * *

><p>By four, Kurt was wide awake. He and Blaine had curled up on the sofa with Blaine against the back and holding Kurt. Santana took the bed upstairs. The wolf hadn't stopping making noises, and Kurt stared at the door. He had a clear view of it through the kitchen from the sofa.<p>

He hated that door.

He hadn't slept. Every time he shut his eyes he saw Joe's terrified eyes when the man saw his arms turning into paws.

The first transformation must have been a shock, but Blaine mentioned something about weed in the bedroom. Joe probably hadn't realized he wasn't dreaming. So changing last night, completely sober…

Kurt winced at another forlorn howl. Still unconscious, Blaine tugged Kurt closer to his chest and buried his face in the back of Kurt's neck.

The poor man.

He was just about to actually fall asleep when Santana marched into the room.

"Get up, gaylords," she said, swinging a pillow into Blaine's face.

With a groan, Blaine hid behind Kurt. "Make her go away." He said, voice muffled.

"She's your friend," Kurt replied darkly. He sat up and rubbed his face. "God, Santana, the sun isn't even up yet, what the fuck."

She rolled her eyes. "You two are so fucking slow. No shit, the sun isn't up. But we need to have a little chat about Kessler in there."

"His name's Joe, Santana."

"She's referring to _An American Werewolf in London._" Blaine said. He'd turned over and hid his face in a pillow. "Movie."

Santana cocked an eyebrow. "Come on, Blainesters. We need to talk." She smacked his ass. Blaine shot her a glare, but sat up. He leaned on Kurt, winding an arm around his boyfriend's waist and leaning on his shoulder. Blaine was damn clingy in the morning. "Starting with why Joe wasn't just shot last night when he turned." The hunter turned demanding eyes on Blaine, then Kurt. Kurt met her gaze evenly.

Shifting uncomfortably, Blaine shrugged. "He took us by surprise." Blaine admitted. "And then I don't know. Kurt lured him into the laundry room and got it locked. There didn't seem to be a point. And then you called and we both needed medical attention. Right?" Blaine glanced at Kurt, who shakily nodded.

Santana narrowed her eyes. "So there won't be a problem when I shoot it after we question it later, right?"

"What?" Kurt stood up angrily. "Who said anything about shooting him? He's still himself; he's still _Joe_. What are you suggesting?"

Glaring, Santana stood up as well, swaying slightly on her bandaged leg. "I'm _suggesting_ that we do our job. Which is to eliminate all supernatural threats."

"He might not be one." Kurt gritted out. He could not believe how cruel she was being. Blaine rested a hand on his arm but Kurt ignored him. "He's still a human being."

"He's a monster." Santana said flatly. "He's a werewolf. Or a lycan; who the fuck knows. But either way, that man will turn into a wolf and kill as many people as he can. He can't control it; it's in his blood now."

"You can't just—Blaine!" Kurt whirled on his boyfriend. "You can't be thinking about going along with this."

Blaine looked miserable. "Kurt," he said, rubbing Kurt's arm until Kurt yanked it away and crossed his arms. Blaine ran a hand through his hair. "Santana is right. Werewolves—and lycans—have a hard time keeping control. There's no cure, and containment methods can fail. The safest thing to do is eliminate the threat."

"So kill them." Kurt said bluntly. He fought down the rage boiling in his blood.

"In short, yes," Blaine stood up and took a step forward. "It's not ideal. But it's the kindest thing to do."

Kurt couldn't help the surge of disappointment as he looked at Blaine. "I thought we'd gotten over this kind of blanket prejudice when we dealt with Mike and Tina." Kurt snapped icily. "But clearly you have issues with everything."

Blaine colored. "Kurt, that's not fair. Vampires can choose to not hunt humans. Werewolves can't."

"But lycans can!" Kurt exploded. "You can't just write him off like this! How can we sit here and decide whether a person lives or dies!"

"They're all the same." Santana cut in. Kurt noticed she was gripping a gun, and he could bet it was loaded with silver. Her voice turned hard. "Werewolves kill people. And if they don't kill them, they try to change them. They're evil."

He stared at her. Santana actually seemed to _hate_ Joe. A lone whine came from the laundry room, but none of them moved. Then it dawned on Kurt. "This is because of Britt." He scoffed. "Oh my god. You hate werewolves because they took Brittany away from you."

"Kurt." Blaine said warningly. Kurt couldn't stop himself though, even as Santana's face turned furious.

"You're something else." Kurt glared at her. "Werewolves aren't to blame. You took her along and put her in danger. If it wasn't a werewolf, it would have been something else. Not all werewolves are bloodthirsty monsters. Brittany getting hurt was ultimately your fault."

"Shut your mouth, Hummel."

Kurt laughed, short and disbelieving. "You left her. Not the other way around. You left Brittany to fend for herself. Didn't even talk to her or give her a choice. Kurt shook his head. "We talked, her and I. When Blaine was out." Santana turned red, but Kurt kept talking. "She misses you. She looks in on you sometimes. And she sees how lonely and lost and angry you are. She forgave you years ago."

"Hummel."

"Kurt, that's enough." Blaine cut in. "You made your point. But we still have to stop him."

Kurt shook his head. "No. I won't let you shoot him. Like he's an animal."

Blaine's expression turned frustrated. "Kurt, he can't help it! Hunting is in his nature; he can't fight that all the time. He will kill people. As many as he can."

"I've heard that before, you know." Kurt said; voice deadly. Rage coiled tight within his chest, but Kurt fought it. "Do you want to guess where?"

Blaine paled. "Kurt."

"It's something Sebastian told me every night." Kurt kept his voice calm. Both Santana and Blaine look guilty under Kurt's gaze. "I'm going to talk to Joe."

Neither of the hunters stopped him.

* * *

><p>Joe was awake and terrified when Kurt got him. He was fully human, though his clothes lay in tatters around himself, and the washing machine had several large dents in it. Kurt took him upstairs to dress and clean up, leaving Santana and Blaine in the kitchen.<p>

Santana had barely said a word since Kurt and Joe left the room. Instead she made herself coffee and slowly sipped it, ignoring Blaine. Fixing this mess was not going to be easy. Blaine sat down in the other kitchen chair, leaning on the table.

"I didn't think about Kurt like that." Santana admitted quietly. She drank her coffee and avoided Blaine's eyes.

Blaine nodded silently. "It's my fault too. I should have realized." He rubbed his face. "God, I'm the worst boyfriend ever." He should have seen Kurt's point sooner. How many times had his own mother screamed at Kurt that he should leave her son because he was dangerous? How often had he heard Sebastian tell Kurt that he couldn't fight his true nature?

"I don't know what to do." Santana ran her fingers through her hair. "God. I liked it when hunting was simple. If it killed people, you shot it. Easy."

"Same." Blaine agreed. "Did you want to take point on questioning him?" Blaine asked. Santana nodded silently. "Alright, we let's discuss this. I have a few theories." Blaine watched her until he got a nod. "Good. Now, last night, Joe told us the night before he had a fever and chills. I found pot upstairs, so I'm pretty sure he smoked some before changing. He didn't remember anything about that night other than waking up in the shower with the water running." Santana frowned, but waved her hand for him to continue. "I also found bloody clothes hidden in his hamper."

She whistled lowly. "So he did change before last night and probably killed. Brad Chan?"

"I think so."

"Do you think he's lying about not remembering it?"

Blaine hesitated. "No," he said finally. "I really think last night was the first time he realized what was happening."

Santana sipped more coffee. "But if he woke up bloody, that would be a clear sign that something was wrong. But he didn't." She glanced at Blaine.

"Someone had to be taking care of him the first night." Blaine stole her cup and took a drink. Bitter. He glared at the mug. "Maybe his maker. His alpha. They probably saw me and Kurt here last night and panicked."

"We don't have any way of tracking down his maker now. And we still have a wolf to deal with." Santana glanced at the door. "When's Kurt getting back?"

"Now." Kurt strode into the kitchen, with a newly dressed and cleaned Joe.

Joe's hands shook his coffee mug as he sat on the couch. He didn't make eye contact with anyone. He played with one of his dreads, just twisting it around his finger and pulling lightly.

"So I'm a…a lycan?" He looked up nervously.

"Yep." Santana said. She had a hand on her gun and looked ready to use it at a moment's notice. Blaine sighed.

"And I turn into a wolf." Joe shook his head faintly. "I thought I hallucinated that."

"No," Kurt rubbed his back. "You didn't. I'm sorry."

Joe suddenly looked up, frantic. "I don't want to hurt people. Did I hurt anyone? I remember a man screaming and…and blood…" Joe paled. "I killed someone, didn't I?"

"It wasn't your fault." Blaine said hurriedly. "It was your first transformation and no one was here to help you. We kept you safe last night." Joe began hyperventilating. "Hey, hey, calm down."

"Who are you guys? Really?" Joe looked at all of them suspiciously. "You aren't Animal Control."

"No," Blaine admitted. "My name is Blaine, and this is Kurt and Santana. We're hunters. Of supernatural creatures and things." He smiled softly. "We need to talk about you, though."

Kurt pressed his mouth in a firm line. Thankfully, though, he stayed quiet.

Joe glanced at Santana. "Why does she look ready to skin me?"

"Because werewolves are dangerous." Santana said matter-of-factly. "Even lycans."

"He can learn." Kurt said bitingly.

"How? He doesn't have anyone to teach him!"

"He can try!"

"Guys!" Blaine yelled. Joe shook in front of him and Blaine grabbed his hands to calm him down. "Seriously, stop. We don't need him any more anxious than he already is."

Santana glared at Kurt and crossed her arms.

Kurt suddenly perked up. "What about Mr. Schue?"

Blaine and Santana glanced at each other. "What about him?" Blaine asked, puzzled. What in the hell was Kurt thinking?

Kurt actually bounced in his spot. "We could take Joe there. New Directions is full of hunters, right? They can make sure he's safe at night and they're in the middle of nowhere anyway. And he might be able to learn how to control himself with help from Quinn and Mercedes. Hell, Sam could even have ideas and he's not too far from there." His eyes were bright and hopeful. "We don't have to kill him."

"What? Kill me?" Joe looked at each of them with wild eyes.

"Shut up, Fluffy." Santana snapped. "Go on, Hummel."

"W-well," Kurt glanced at Blaine, silently pleading for support. "He's not inherently evil. We were talking upstairs." Kurt gestured at Joe, who just looked confused and nervous. "He heard us last night. And understood us, sort of. And he meditates, like all the time, which is actually kind of freaky, but he has really good concentration and control over himself; so why can't that control transfer over to his new wolf self?" Kurt stopped to take a breath. "He can do this." Kurt said confidently.

Blaine inhaled sharply and eyed Santana. "I think it's actually a good idea." He said.

"Of course you would; he's your boyfriend." Santana scoffed. "You have to agree with him." She looked away from Blaine's gaze.

_Come on, Santana. Do the right thing._ Blaine tried to silently convince her.

"Oh, fuck. Fine. Call Schue and see what he thinks." She relented, scowling. "But you're still getting tied up tonight, Sparky." Santana said, pointing a finger at Joe.

"Eep! Thank you!" Kurt squealed and hugged her tightly while Joe looked around helplessly.

"What?"

* * *

><p>They still had one more night of the full moon to survive.<p>

The plan was simple. Santana's leg was still messed up and she couldn't exactly sprint, so she would stay with Joe for the night. They would use the laundry room again. Blaine was fairly certain she wouldn't kill him. Fairly.

Meanwhile, he and Kurt would cruise the town in the hopes of either finding Joe's alpha or stopping another attack. It was a weak plan, but it was the best they could come up with. In the morning, they'd start driving to Montana.

Mr. Schue agreed to handle Joe, and Mercedes and Quinn wanted to see Kurt and Blaine anyway. Santana, however, refused to set foot in that "hellhole in the armpit of America." She had a way with words, Blaine had to admit.

Blaine watched the street through the window drapes while Santana got Joe set up for the night. He narrowed his eyes. "Hey, Kurt," he called. "Come here."

Kurt joined him at the window.

"Do you see that car in front of the blue house?" Blaine pointed. "The black one?"

"Yeah."

"It drove by three times and it's been sitting there for the past fifteen minutes."

Kurt hummed in response. "How many?"

Blaine grinned. Kurt was going to be a great hunter. "There's two men in the car. They keep ducking and trying to hide, but they're too big."

"Think they're here for Joe?" Kurt asked. He let the drapes fall back. "His…alpha, you said?"

Blaine nodded. "Definitely." He stepped away from the window and grabbed his coat. "The sun is almost down. Let's go have a little chat."

Sighing, Kurt readied himself. "This isn't going to go well, is it?"

Blaine just shrugged, grinning. The thrill of the hunt rushed through his body. He loved this part. Knowing he's doing the right thing and saving people. It's what made the job worth it.

With Joe locked up and Santana sitting guard, Blaine and Kurt snuck out the back. They cut through the neighbor's yards and circled around to the font, coming up to the car from the back. As Blaine saw earlier, there were two large men in the front seats. One was bald, and the other had thick black hair and a beard. Blaine didn't like the look of him. Kurt stayed close to his side as they walked up to the car, looking like an ordinary couple out on a stroll. Only Kurt's tight grip on his arm betrayed his nerves.

"Steady, Kurt." Blaine muttered. Kurt squeezed his arm in response.

They walked past the car. "Evening, gentlemen." Blaine waved at them with a bright smile. The bald one rolled his eyes in disgust and the bearded one just glared. "Lovely night, isn't it?"

The bald man grunted, but quickly fixed his gaze back on Joe's house. The sun slipped below the horizon, turning the sky deep red and purple.

"Wouldn't you say so Kurt? So…balmy out here." Blaine said, still grinning. It was just above 40, so Kurt just stared at him. "Anyway, we know who you are." Blaine smiled tightly.

The men stared at him. "Is that so?" The bald man opened the car and got out. He towered over Blaine. The man with the beard slid up next to his companion. He stared at Kurt hungrily, licking his lips and rubbing his hands together.

"Merril, quiet." The bald man glared at the giggling man. "Who are you, boy?"

"A hunter." Blaine said proudly. A howl came from the house, and Merril growled. "We know you're lycans."

The bald man laughed. "Then you should have known better then to challenge two of us on a full moon." He blinked and his eyes turned yellow.

Blaine backed up and took out his gun, Kurt doing the same. The bald man laughed and lifted his head to the moon. As Kurt and Blaine watched, the men curled in on themselves. Their shirts tore as their muscles grew and stretched, fur growing over their bodies. Within seconds, two large wolves stood in front of the hunters, one grey and one a shaggy brown.

"Oh. Shit." Kurt breathed. "They're huge, Blaine."

Blaine nodded faintly. Joe was large, yes, but these had at least a foot on him. The gun in his hand suddenly felt very small. Joe howled from the house again and the wolves' ears twitched. The brown wolf locked eyes with Kurt and growled low in his throat, saliva dripping from its huge jaws. It took a step forward and Kurt tensed. He cocked his gun.

The grey wolf snapped at the brown, but the brown wolf swiped back at the other and then lunged at Kurt. Kurt fired in reflex, hitting the wolf in the shoulder. With a yelp of pain, and the smell of sizzling flesh, the wolf fell to the ground, growling.

A man poked his head outside of his door at the shot. "Get back inside; police business!" Blaine yelled. The man's eyes widened, but he slammed the door, just as the brown wolf clambered back to his feet. "Kurt, run. I can take care of them." Blaine raised his gun and took aim at the grey one. It growled at him, barking once.

"Like fuck I'm leaving you." Kurt scoffed. "So, which do you think turned Joe?"

"The grey one." Blaine backed up slowly. The wolves advanced. "He's taking the lead, see? The other one follows him. He's building a pack." Blaine realized. "Holy shit. He's building a pack."

The grey wolf appeared to grin. It howled long and triumphant then lunged at Blaine. Blaine dodged the attack, shoving Kurt out of the way and firing a round at the wolf. He missed, and the wolf snapped angrily. Kurt got to his feet quickly and stood back-to-back with Blaine, facing the brown wolf.

"I know the odds are two against two," Kurt began. "And we have guns, but I really, _really_ don't like this."

"Yeah," Blaine agreed. The wolves were huge and powerful, but also smart. They could think like humans, not animals. And the silver barely fazed them. Not to mention the fact that they were in the middle of a suburban neighborhood filled with potential victims. Good god, Blaine hoped the residents had the sense to lock their doors at the howls and gunshots. Actually, he was surprised the police hadn't shown up yet.

The grey wolf barked shortly, and the brown one took that as a cue. It ran at Kurt, howling and covering the fifteen yard difference between them in less than four seconds. Kurt screamed as claws ripped at his chest before Blaine yanked him away. Blaine pistol-whipped the wolf's skull and the brown wolf dropped like a stone. Behind him, the grey wolf howled in anger and growled. Its yellow eyes flashed with rage, and he ran at Blaine, knocking him away from Kurt and to the ground. The wolf clamped its powerful jaws around Blaine's calf and bit hard.

Pain exploded in his leg and Blaine screamed. He kicked at the wolf's face, but it just bit harder, blood pouring out over its snout. He couldn't think beyond _pain pain oh god make it stop_ and Kurt, bless him, kept his head. He grabbed Blaine's dropped gun and shot the wolf's body.

The wolf released Blaine's leg and Blaine scooted away from the growling creature, trying not to hyperventilate. Holy_ fuck_ his leg hurt. He wasn't thinking about the fact he had just gotten a lycan bite because there was no place for those thoughts when Kurt was facing down a twelve-foot wolf with a revolver and five shots left.

The blood loss made Blaine's vision cloud, but he fought back. "K-Kurt." He gritted out. "The-the heart. Try for-for the heart."

"Okay," Kurt whispered. Blaine saw tear tracks on his boyfriend's face.

The wolf cocked his head at Kurt and then changed back to his human form. The brown wolf had woken and padded over to the naked man, licking and nuzzling the man's hands.

"Oh, now, this is unfortunate." The man smiled cruelly. "A hunter has become the hunted." He waved at Blaine and laughed.

"Shut the fuck up." Kurt snapped. He was shaking, and Blaine wished he could stand and help him but his leg just _hurt_. Like fire was shooting through his veins. Blaine groaned softly as he tried to stem the blood flow with his hands.

Kurt glanced over worriedly, but kept the gun trained on the man. "Who are you?" Kurt flecked his eyes between the man and the wolf. "Why are you here?"

The man spread his arms. "We are here because this town is as good as any to start an army." He grinned, showing bloodied teeth. "Oh, and something you should know. Not everyone is cut out to be a lycan. Only somewhere in the neighborhood of, hmmm, twenty percent can tolerate the lycan magic." Kurt paled and glanced at a feverish Blaine. "The rest grow sick within a week and then pass away." He petted the wolf, which still eyed Kurt hungrily.

"What's the army for?"

"Oh, I think you know, Kurt Hummel." The man smiled. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Reuben, a good...hmm…_ally_ of a friend of yours."

"Sebastian." Kurt breathed.

Reuben clapped his hand and the wolf barked. "And a bacon strip to the winner! Yes, Sebastian could use an army like lycans. We have the perfect disguise. We can blend in anywhere and have the ability to become lethal and indestructible killers at will." Reuben cocked an eyebrow. "Not unlike a certain someone, I've heard." Kurt stiffened, but the man ignored it. "The age of lycans is coming, little mouse, and not even Sebastian will be able to t stop it." Reuben suddenly gripped the wolf's neck. "No, Merril, we need him alive. I know he smells good, but leave him. Take the hunter. He's dying anyway." He growled out. Reuben released the wolf, ignoring its whimper. "There's another female hunter in the house. You can have her when we get the pup."

"You won't get either. Or Blaine." Kurt said, furious. Blaine saw his eyes turning blue and Kurt's breathing sped up. "You're going to die right here."

Kurt squeezed the trigger and the bullet ripped through Reuben's heart with no warning. Reuben hadn't had time to react before he collapsed to the ground, a growing red stain around his heart. His eyes were glassy and lifeless.

Merril howled and turned to Kurt, growling deeply. He snapped at Kurt a few times, but kept moving to never present Kurt with a clear target.

"Fuck, Kurt, keep control, keep calm," Blaine whispered as he watched the scene with growing horror. His leg pain had dulled to a steady pulse, and the tourniquet he tied seemed to slow the blood loss. Kurt's movements were jerky and wild as he tried to follow the wolf with his gun. His power was taking over, and it was only a matter of time before they got a repeat of the warehouse and Kurt knocked himself out.

If there was ever a time for Santana…

A new howl split the air, higher in pitch. All eyes turned to Joe's house, where a pale but determined Santana stood on the porch with a black wolf at her side. The brown wolf growled, haunches raised.

Santana looked calmly at the scene, though Blaine saw how tightly she gripped the railing. He had no idea why Joe wasn't locked up, let alone why Santana let him out, but the sight of them together was such a relief than Blaine actually sighed happily. She seemed to come to a conclusion about the scene before her, and Santana raised a finger to point at the brown wolf.

"Sic 'im, boy." She said.

The black wolf howled and ran at the brown. They met in a tangle of limbs and fur and teeth and claws, ripping and tearing at each other. Kurt stood off to the side as he tried to follow the fight with the gun.

"I just need one clear shot; come on, Joe," Kurt muttered.

The brown wolf sank its teeth in Joe's thigh and Joe let out a cry of pain before swiping across the wolf's snout with his sharp claws. Joe lunged at the wolf and closed his maw around the wolf's throat, biting deep. The wolf yelped in pain and tried to twist away, but Joe flipped the wolf on its back to bare its chest to the sky. Blaine sucked in a breath. The wolf couldn't be more vulnerable; Kurt had to shoot it now. Kurt stepped closer until he stood over the wolf, gun pointing at the wolf's heart.

Joe growled in his throat and shook the wolf's body as if to say _do it now!_

"Sebastian is going to lose." Kurt said. Then he fired.

The bullet met its mark easily and tore through flesh and bone. The brown wolf cried out in pain, and Joe released the wolf's neck. Merril's body jerked as the fur receded and his bones warped back into his human shape, leaving a mangled and bloodied man in the wolf's place. He coughed, spitting out a mouthful of blood. Through his harsh breathing, Merril grinned at Kurt.

"The-the demon t-told us about you," Merril forced out. Kurt looked back stonily. "You c-can't fight who you are. You're going t-to destroy the w-world." He laughed shortly, wet and choked. "Then we'll see who loses."

Kurt shook at his words. When Merril started laughing again, Kurt raised the gun and fired the remaining rounds into the lycan's chest, obliterating it. He kept squeezing the trigger even after the hammer clicked on an empty chamber.

He was crying by that point, and Blaine had to distract him. "Kurt…" Blaine tried to stand, but his leg buckled under his weight and sent him sprawling into the grass. His leg felt like it was on fire. Joe walked over to him and licked Blaine's face, whining softly. He turned and barked at Kurt, getting his attention.

Kurt finally saw Blaine lying on the ground awkwardly and his copiously bleeding leg. "Oh, fuck, no," Kurt whispered. "Shit, shit, Blaine, you can't leave me like this," Kurt gripped Blaine around his waist and hauled him up to a semi-standing position. "Hold on, Blaine." Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt's neck and Kurt lifted him up, running for Joe's house with the wolf right behind him. They'd worry about the corpses later.

At the house, Santana launched into a Spanish tirade when she saw Blaine's pale and sweat-drenched face as well as his mangled leg. She and Kurt cleared a space in the living and laid Blaine down, careful not to jostle the leg too much. Blaine fought back tears, but _shit_. Visions began flashing in front of his eyes, pictures of the woods, of stalking deer, of bringing down prey.

"Blaine, Blaine," Kurt fought back sobs as he wiped Blaine's face with a cool washcloth. "Sweetheart, there has to be a cure, it can't be over so fast." Blaine gripped Kurt's hand as best he could. He could feel Santana cutting away his jeans and she cursed at the sight of the wound. Even Joe whined sadly, nosing at Blaine's other arm.

"There's no cure, Kurt." Blaine fought to get the words out. His mind felt foggy, delirious. "We just-just have to see if I can survive this night and go from there." He caught Santana's eye and looked away. The wolf earlier was right. The hunter was now the hunted, and even if Blaine survived the transition there was no guarantee he'd be able to keep himself under control. He could very well die in the next hour or even week.

Kurt was crying, and Blaine hated himself for that. It wasn't fair. They were supposed to get months, years together. Not like this. Not cut short in some backwater town in Virginia on a hippie-lycan's floor.

"I'm sorry, Kurt, I'm sorry," Blaine babbled. "I'm sorry, I love you." He tried to focus on Kurt's eyes, beautiful blue eyes that were large and watery with pain.

Kurt kissed him roughly, trying not to cry but failing. "No, no, no, I'm not ready, please, Blaine, please don't leave me, I need you!" Kurt suddenly sat up straight. His eyes flashed angrily. "Puck, get your feathery douchebag ass down here!" he yelled. Santana frowned and Joe tilted his head to the side, both confused. Kurt ignored them. "Puck! I fucking mean it, I'm praying you dickwad!"

"Kurt," Santana touched his shoulder but Kurt twisted away. "Kurt, stop, help me with Blaine instead of screeching my ears off."

"PUCK!"

"Christ, man, I heard you!" They all stared at the door, where a man in a mohawk stood cleaning out his ear. "Scream a little louder, I'm sure there are demons in the pits of hell that didn't hear you." He looked around the room. "Damn, it's like a warzone in here, what happened?"

Kurt scrambled to his feet. "Fix him." He pointed at Blaine. "And her, but help Blaine, please, I'm begging you."

Puck gave him a long look, but crouched beside Santana. "Hey, hot stuff, how's it going?" Santana stared at him suspiciously, so Puck sighed. He pressed two fingers to her forehead, and in another breath, Santana gasped. She gaped at him, then ripped away the bandages on her leg, revealing smooth, unbroken skin.

"How…?"

"Aw, you're speechless!" Puck grinned. "I'll be back sweetheart." He stood up and looked at Blaine, taking in his fever and rattling breath. "What happened?"

"Lycan bite." Kurt whispered. Joe padded up next to Kurt and Kurt stroked his head unconsciously. "Not very long ago."

Puck knelt beside Blaine and pressed a hand to Blaine's forehead. Blaine sighed at the cool touch, but nothing changed too much. Wasn't it working?

"I can't do anything." Puck finally said. He looked sadly at Kurt.

"W-what?" Kurt stuttered. "You're a fucking angel; you can do anything! Save Blaine!"

Puck shook his head. "This is very powerful magic and much different than my own. I can't help him."

Blaine let his head fall back. Well, it was close. He'd almost escaped. He wished Kurt would stop freaking out. He just wanted his boyfriend to hug him before he died; to whisper that everything was going to be ok. Leaving Kurt hurt so much. Blaine felt a tear slide down his cheek.

Kurt couldn't give up that easily. "No! No, it's not over, it can't be, can't you do something?" Kurt pleaded. "Please, Puck, please, help us."

With a sigh, Puck eyed Kurt. "Come here, Princess." He tugged Kurt to his knees next to Blaine. Kurt hovered near Blaine's head. "You guys back up." Puck snapped at Santana and Joe, who retreated several steps. "Ok, there's no guarantee this is going to work, ok?"

Kurt nodded quickly. Reaching up, Blaine took Kurt's hand and squeezed. The fever made it hard to comprehend what was going on, but even upside-down Kurt looked scared and that just did things to Blaine.

"You might—_might—_be able to help your boyfriend." Puck said. "Have you been practicing?"

Kurt flushed guiltily.

"Thought so," Puck sighed. "Alright, fine, we'll just have to go carefully." He took Kurt's hands and placed them on either side of Blaine's head. Kurt stroked lightly, calming Blaine down slightly. "Now I want you to listen to me very carefully. Do everything I say."

"Okay." Kurt whispered.

Puck looked him up and down. "Everything."

"Okay!" Kurt glared almost angrily. "Help me save Blaine."

"Close your eyes." Puck ordered. "Good. Alright, now feel for the magic in the room." He waited until Kurt nodded, face screwed up in concentration.

Joe began to whine and shrank back against Santana. The air grew thick and charged. Blaine squeezed his hands at his sides to fight the urge to touch Kurt. The pain in his leg had dulled, and he felt Kurt's hands on his heads grow warm. Kurt opened his eyes and looked down at Blaine, smiling softly. His eyes were completely blue.

Everything fell away but Kurt, Kurt and his eyes. He thought he heard Puck instructing Kurt on how to direct the magic, and then cool tendrils of _something_ crept from Kurt's hands through Blaine. The tendrils gathered around his leg and pulsed. The fever faded and the pain was pulled out of him slowly with each pulse. Kurt's magic caressed him, stroking the injured leg and his face and squeezing his hand as the lycan magic was extracted from his body. Blaine gasped in sudden pain and he heard Kurt swear above him. It wouldn't leave him, the wolf refused. _Oh please let Kurt be strong enough._ The lycan wolf dug claws into Blaine's heart and wouldn't let go.

"K-Kurt," Blaine panted out, trying to be strong. _Get out, get out, I don't want you!_ He screamed at the wolf. The wolf just laughed and squeezed harder. Blaine moaned when he felt Kurt pour more magic into his body, trembling. He hurt all over and ached, but he had to keep it together until Kurt could save him. He wouldn't, _couldn't_ leave Kurt, not with the war about to start. He loved Kurt.

Magic filled him, warred inside him, the light blue of Kurt's and the black of the wolf's. Blaine whimpered and Kurt stroked his curls, but didn't break his concentration. After a particularly harsh clash, Blaine suddenly heard Kurt yelling in his head.

_Mine, MINE, not yours, leave, get out get out GET OUT_! A surge of power rushed through his veins and the wolf was expelled with a shocked expression. Blaine shot up and coughed violently, gasping from breath. Kurt was right there, rubbing his back soothingly.

"Blaine? Blaine, how do you feel?" Kurt felt his forehead worriedly. "Your fever's gone, but everything else?"

"It's gone," Blaine stared at Kurt's worried eyes. "It's gone, you did it, oh my god!" Blaine pulled Kurt into a tight hug. "You are so amazing, you know that?" He whispered. Kurt didn't answer, but buried his face in the crook of Blaine's shoulder, crying quietly. Joe barked happily and even Santana looked impressed, though Puck just eyed Kurt with an unreadable expression.

Blaine hugged Kurt tighter. They would worry about Puck later.

* * *

><p>Kurt never knew what exactly changed Santana's mind about Joe exactly, but she'd released him from his prison and he saved him and Blaine. He'd never be able to repay her. When Joe turned back in the morning, they made new plans. He wasn't going to New Directions any longer. He wanted to help people, and he couldn't do that locked up in the middle of nowhere.<p>

And for some reason, Santana agreed. She was lonely after losing Britt, and Joe had lost everything in his old life. They decided to stay together. Privately, Kurt thought having a companion would be good for Santana. She needed someone to keep her sane during these trying times.

Puck cleaned up the bodies of the lycans outside, frowning at Kurt and Blaine's story. An army of lycans would indeed be a powerful weapon for the demons, and none were naive enough to guess that this was their only pack. Puck agreed to keep an eye out on more strange deaths, and to inform the angels so they could hopefully stop a repeat.

Blaine still wanted to go to New Directions.

He wanted more allies. Which meant more people knowing about Kurt. More people seeing him as a freak.

His powers had saved Blaine, yes, but no one, not even Puck, knew how close Kurt had come to losing control. Magic was fickle and powerful, and not something to take lightly.

But Blaine asked. And so they left for Montana in the morning.

* * *

><p>-<em>I-94, Maryland-<em>

The air was beautiful, so Blaine had the windows down and the music blasting.

Funny how a brush with death made everything more precious. Blaine grinned over at Kurt, who managed a small smile before turning back to the window. Blaine frowned slightly.

Something was going on with Kurt. And like usual, he wasn't talking. He knew Kurt didn't want to get more people involved, but with the demons making their moves and the angels sure to follow, he and Kurt needed more allies on _their_ side. People that could help them, no questions asked.

Quinn and Mercedes would be invaluable, especially as they work in a popular roadhouse. The kind of information and gossip they'd pick up would be helpful. And Schue had connections all over the country. If he and Kurt could persuade them, they might have a chance.

But something was still bothering Kurt, and Blaine had a feeling it was deeper than just asking New Directions to join them.

Blaine sang along to the radio.

_And you walked out when I asked you to stay  
>As usual you will get your way<br>You closed the door and stumbled down to the street  
>Where you wring your hands…<em>

He poked Kurt until his boyfriend turned to him. Blaine kept singing, hoping that Kurt was listening to the words.

_I'm ringing all the warning bells  
>Careful or you'll hurt yourself<br>Others lie, lie, lie, they adore you  
>I'll be the one to tell you<br>Careful or you'll hurt yourself  
>Gonna try, try, try till the morning<em>

The music seemed to break down some of Kurt's walls. As the last notes trailed off, Blaine lowered the volume.

"Kurt?"

"Mmm?" He met Blaine's eyes hesitantly.

"Can you talk to me about what's scaring you?" Blaine was met with silence. "Please, I just want to help you." Blaine tried to keep his voice calm. Thank God he was fairly decent at reading Kurt, because he had a bad feeling this topic was really important. Getting Kurt to actually _talk_ was like pulling teeth. "Kurt?"

"I'm scared about what I can do," Kurt whispered. He wouldn't even look at Blaine, but instead curled himself up in the seat. "I'm not…I don't know how to control the magic, and that night in the warehouse? And last night? I took too much and barely kept it from exploding and I don't want to risk you, but Puck keeps telling me to _try_ but how can I do that and keep you safe? Or me?" Kurt finally met Blaine's eyes, looking so tortured and scared that Blaine pulled over immediately. Once the car was parked, Kurt began hyperventilating and spilling everything.

"I can't even describe _it_ yet, but I just _know_ if I take too much I'll get overwhelmed and I have no idea what will happen. Best case scenario, I'm the only one affected, and I don't know. I explode or something."

Blaine felt sick at how flippantly Kurt described himself dying. But he refrained from interrupting.

"Worst case? _Everything_ explodes and people around me get hurt. Like you. And I can take so much power that it could be like a nuclear bomb going off. Who knows how many would die? Because Blaine," Kurt shifted, facing Blaine directly. "It's _so_ easy to take too much. It's like a balance; I have to take enough to get the job done, but too much and the scales tip. If they tip too far, I can't do anything to stop it. I can't control myself, and I'm so scared of that." Kurt swallowed. "I don't want to hurt anyone." He whispered before launching himself into Blaine's arms.

He'd been carrying that around for weeks. "Shit, Kurt, you have got to stop this ok?" Blaine clung tight, rubbing soothingly over Kurt's back. "We're in this together; I can't keep watching you bottle this shit up, ok?" Blaine framed Kurt's face with his hands and forced his boyfriend to look at him. "I want to help you. Communication, right?" He smiled and brushed a stray hair out of Kurt's eyes. "I hate watching you hurt like this. I love you."

"Love you too." Kurt reply was automatic. He took a shaky breath. "I'll try."

"That's all I ask," Blaine chuckled slightly. "_And I'll be the one to tell you_," he sang softly. "_Careful or you'll hurt yourself, gonna try, try, try, 'til the morning."_

Kurt gave him a watery smile. "Sap."

"You love it, Kurt Hummel." Blaine smirked. He giggled when Kurt smacked his arm. He guided the car back onto the highway and turned up the radio. It was some Lady Gaga song, and if he could see Kurt's face light up like that all the time, he'd never complain about subjecting himself to pop music again. He sang along with Kurt, reveling in the fact that they were still alive and still together. They were going to make it.

Besides, there were only twenty more hours to the Roadhouse, and he decided he wanted to hear Kurt sing the whole way.

* * *

><p><strong>AN-**

**Songs: Bad Moon Risin' by Creedance Clearwater Revival and Careful by Guster**

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter! It was really hard to write, but I actually am excited for the next one.**

**I'm thinking of winding this down soon. I just need to figure out what the hell I'm doing.**

**As always, thank you for all the reviews, favorites, and alerts! There are over 100 reviews for this story, which is fantastic and I cannot thank you guys enough. I will work on the next chapter and get it out as soon as possible!**

**Also about Glee? That ending was not ok. At all. My poor baby Kurt...**

**(update 7/26- I promise I'm working on this story, I'm just having a lot of trouble trying to figure out what I want to happen so it doesn't sound completely stupid. I will probably be updating my other story first though, so feel free to check that out too if you'd like. Thanks again for all the support and reading this crazy mess! Feel free to talk to me on tumblr, I'd love some ideas! Also if anyone is interested in letting me bounce ideas off of you, let me know and I'll definitely think about it! You can PM me or talk to me on tumblr, link is in my profile)**


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